


Retweeted by dstrider

by dstrider (articulateSeer)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: "implied" ye fuckin right, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Celebrity Crush, Celebrity Dave, Coming Out, Crossdressing, F/F, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Minor Jade Harley/Dave Strider, Online Romance, Secret Relationship, i am SCUM dirty dirkat SCUM, the dirkat thing is implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/articulateSeer/pseuds/dstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider has just entered the glorious world of being single.</p>
<p>You don’t particularly care. Of course you don’t. Who would care about that? Not you! Why does Rose think you would?</p>
<p>Not that you would ever have a chance with Dave Strider. The most famous celebrity in America right now. But you can dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I should put some things here before you read:
> 
> *I know I only update maybe once a month, but I will finish this even if im lying on my death bed
> 
> OKAY
> 
> John is 18, as is Rose. John does NOT go to college, instead he has a blog, in which he reviews movies tbh idk how well that would even work out for him as a career but WHATEVER YOU LIKE, JOHN.
> 
> Dave is like 23 I guess. Dirk is his twin. Regarding their backstory, all you gotta know is that their guardian fucked off somewhere and they were raised mostly by their aunt and family friend. And then Dave hit the big time and they were rich ta-daa! I suppose some stuff would be mentioned about their family, but I don't think it'll be that be important.
> 
> Here's my tumblr too: http://stridong.tumblr.com. Happy reading!
> 
>  
> 
> Some of the HTML has fucked up becaus of the way I coded it, so im sorry aboit that oops.

Rose sat across from you on your bed, her laptop balanced precariously on the tops of her knees. The light form the screen reflected on her eyes, but not enough to show you what she was even doing. She was typing furiously, which made you think she was working on her book, but she wouldn’t let you in on the details; why it had to be your house she was doing it in was a whole mystery in itself that really had no business being solved, no matter how much you wanted it to be. The laptop wobbled, and you were sure it was going to fall, but by some strange black magic force it managed to stay perfectly in-place on her legs. Even when she let go of the laptop completely to fix her hair, it still stayed in place! It was really quite marvelous. You were quite distracted.

It was a Saturday evening, probably around 7 or 8. You were only guessing this of course – Rose had come around earlier in the afternoon, wanting to ‘have a friendly catch-up’, but since she’d arrived through the door, her laptop in tow and her black-rimmed eyes perfectly set on getting work done and not friendly chatter, she’d done nothing but sit occupied on your bed and type away on her computer, the entire body clothed in a knitted cozy. It was very well made, you think. The only time you remember her moving was when your dad called you both down for dinner. She made conversation, but not with you, so you just left it at that and let her continue being the aspiring author she wanted to be.

You were just really bored of sitting doing nothing; it was getting dark outside already! Look, streetlights!

“Roooooooooooose! Can we please do something interesting?” you whined, stretching flat out at her feet, you head hanging off the edge of the bed. She hadn’t moved, or reacted in the slightest, but spoke rather distractedly from behind the screen.

“I’m afraid that will have to wait, John. As it happens, I’m dealing with a very big project right now, and need utter silence to complete it. Another time.”

You blew out a long breath, your bangs wavering in the small breeze you created. You were getting a little dizzy from hanging upside down, but at least it was better than sitting like an elementary school child; legs crossed, your finger on your lips so you wouldn’t make a sound. Of course, you can’t stay quiet for more than a minute – your running commentary is what makes you fun to be around.

“But this is my house – why are you here anyway?” you muttered, whipping yourself upright again – your glasses also fell off of your face and to the floor, but you couldn’t be bothered diving down there again to retrieve them. You’ll get them when you remember. “I mean...well, you know what I mean! All you’ve done is type away on your laptop...”

“Ooh,” Rose interrupted you, peeking over the top of her screen to make eye contact. She had a strange smile on her face, and it was especially strange with the creepy gothic makeup she always wore. Not that it didn’t suit her, but right now she looked very mischievous and you can’t say you didn’t pee a little. She flicked her laptop around with a swift movement and showed you the screen; Twitter, open on a celebrity’s profile you’d rather not talk about any more than you have to. “Look who just broke up with his girlfriend.”

You don’t particularly care. Of course you don’t. Who would care about that? Not you! Why does Rose think you would...weird.

You squinted your eyes at her, mostly because you didn’t have your glasses and also because it was more than a little bit dark outside, and stood up to turn on the light. She grinned at you from her corner of the bed, taking your ignorance as something else, and offered up the laptop like a talisman.

“I think you should tweet him, can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Why would I tweet him? Try what?” You were feigning confusion, so you brushed the laptop out of the way, and dropped to the floor and hunted around for the long lost glasses you kind of needed to have to see. “I have no idea what...No!” you continued, your blush heavily hidden by your clever angling.

It was a nightmare being mostly blind and losing your glasses – it was like trying to find a skittle in a bucket of peanut M&M’s (if you could eat peanuts – that’s one prank you disapprove of). “If you’re trying to get at what I think you’re getting at....stop getting there!” You scoped around the floor, still speaking and complaining, picking up lint and other strange items you couldn’t identify until finally, yep those are definitely your glasses, “I don’t even know who he is.”

Rose was speaking when you resurfaced with a triumphant smile on your face and your glasses clutched in your fingers – but it only took you 2 seconds to register that she had your phone in your face and the flash had gone off, dazing you into blindness again. What the hell was she playing at! Rose!

“Rose, what the fuck! I’ve gone blind!” You screeched, stumbling back onto your bed, huffing like an old dog and slouching against the wall. “I am forever unable to see where you’re going with this.”

“Oh, please,” Rose said, fiddling with your phone again, “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. In fact, I have a great number of saved pesterlogs handy if the memory of your little confession is still foggy? I do love discussion, John. I am happy to meddle and help when I can. That is a guarantee from me to you.”

Nonononononono those pesterlogs were private for a reason! You have...admitted some things to Rose in those, some things that you don’t really feel like bringing up again. You vaguely remember mentioning a certain celebrity crush, but SURELY that isn’t what Rose is talking about...nope. It’s just a coincidence. A silly, badly timed coincidence. Rose handed you back your phone, a triumphant and feral smile on her face. For a 5"5 girl who writes stories about wizards, she really can be a terrifying force of nature. What has she done _now_?

You think you know, but you look at your phone anyway, holding Rose’s gaze for as long as you can. Twitter was open. Oh God. You swallowed the vomit rising in your throat and read the screen – or rather, the tweet Rose had sent on your account. And – oh, shit no! Did she post a _selfie_? You will be having serious words. Serious, business-like words. You didn’t read the caption she’d put – you didn’t even notice it was there.

...It wasn’t a bad selfie. And, well, it wasn’t a selfie. It was the picture she took when you found your glasses. Your eyes were half closed, but you were smiling, so it just looked like your eyes were crinkled with delight. But still! You don’t want your face on the internet! It’s _the internet _! Your dad had always warned you to be careful...even having a twitter was risky in your opinion. You could feel Rose watching what you would do next. You feel really strange about this. Giddy, but nervous, and also a little thankful that she had tweeted him. But obviously you know how being a celebrity works – he had millions of followers on twitter, and those millions of followers tweeted him back all the time! Obviously, and this was a big obviously, he would never tweet you back. You tried not to let that realization show on your face, but you checked the replies on your tweet anyway.__

__And._ _

__Oh._ _

___Oh._ Shit._ _

__“Rose. What exactly did you tweet.” You deadpanned, refusing to look her in the eye. You feel like maybe she’d ripped out your soul and left you as a husk of your former self; the retweet you’d gotten was kind of crazy, and kind of unbelievable to the point you were questioning whether or not this was a hidden camera show, or if you were simply having a dream/nightmare. Probably a hidden camera show nightmare, you have the worst luck._ _

__“I asked him out on a date, did he reply?” She put aside her laptop, genuine interest in her voice. Even Rose was disbelieving of you ever receiving a reply from someone like him, and you checked the username multiple times to make sure it wasn’t a hoax account or simply someone with a similar name. But no. It was definitely him. “John. What did he say?”_ _

__“He...” You weren’t able to read the tweet aloud, but it sure did read something along the lines of a ‘sure, why not’. You turned the phone around so Rose could see, and she took it out of your limp hands wordlessly. You kind of wanted to squeal and run around the room in a crazed fit of ‘Oh my God! My celebrity senpai noticed me!’, but your legs were dead and your brain may well have been too if Rose hadn’t spoken to you again._ _

__“You have a private message...I’m not one to pry, John, but I can read it aloud for you if you’re feeling too shaken up?” She’d already opened the message anyway, but you nodded yes. Fuck if you were going to read it yourself. You’d rather fade into the void and never come out. (If he was serious, and you did eventually start dating – unlikely, but a boy can dream - you’d also have to ‘come out’ anyway! Oh no, this is too much. Where’s the alcohol. Where’s your hammer. It might be a good time to pass out.)_ _

__“Oh...okay.” She cleared her throat, unable to hide even the smallest ounce of wonder from her voice. Her eyes too, were full of confusion and bewilderment – you can’t quite imagine how you look right now if even Rose is showing signs of disbelief._ _

__“’Yo’,” she started, then frowned. The word sounded _really_ strange coming from Rose’s mouth...and also, her ‘dude’ voice was kind of odd. “’Saw your tweet, dude. Thought I’d hyu’ – I assume that’s supposed to mean ‘hit you up’, though I can’t be sure - ‘You were serious about that right?’”_ _

__Without another word, she handed you your phone back, screen up. How the fuck were you supposed to reply to that? You didn’t even tweet it!_ _

__“I...” You looked to Rose, who was already shaking her head before you made eye contact. “Was I serious? Were you serious? Rose I don’t know how to respond at all, please help!”_ _

__She patted her hair, making ‘hm’ noises and tapping her chin. It was a little annoying, but she was smart. Maybe this was how she thought. Who knows. Eventually, she stopped being weird and took your phone again, reading over the message god knows how many times, “I say tell him you are interested. It can’t hurt, and...he seems genuinely interested.” Your phone pinged. “’s’cool if you’re not, but you’re hella cute and i-d-k it’d be awesome if you replied’. I think you should reply. If anything, he seems a little desperate to receive reciprocation.”_ _

__Okay. You can reply. You can do that._ _

__“Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to deal with it, I don’t want to meddle too much – while it is my specialty, I have boundaries,” she lifted her laptop again, and stood up, making to leave the room. Why is she leaving! “Don’t hesitate to find me, John. I love to help, after-all.”_ _

__“Rose, come back!” You silently scream inside your head and lift the pillow to your face, hearing the door click behind her on the way out. You breathe in, inhaling the pillow-y smell and regulating your breathing just a little so that you can at least have coherent thoughts. How the living fuck do you even begin to deal with this – you don’t get into relationships! You don’t do anything! You have no experience, and no one to guide you. For an 18 year old, you sure do have an exciting social life. Good thing you have friends who are also experienced in having active social lives, right?_ _

__“Oooo-kay. You got this, Egbert. This isn’t hard! Just...” Breathe in. “...Reply. Just reply. Not hard.” Breathe out._ _

__You formed out a sentence on the keyboard, before realizing the thing wasn’t even typing. God, you hate typing on phones – you tapped the white message box a little too furiously. Okay, this time, it was typing. This time, you wouldn’t delete anything, you were just going to reply with whatever came to your – no! Stupid idea! You have to think this through. What did he say last? (He said you were cute, what the fuck is happening.)_ _

____ @dstrider: yo saw your tweet dude  
@dstrider: thought id hyu  
@dstrider: you WERE serious about that right  
@dstrider: s cool if youre not but  
@dstrider: youre hella cute and idk  
@dstrider: itd be awesome if you replied 

__You think you have a good one._ _

____ @ghostyTrickster: yeah i was serious! :B  
@ghostyTrickster: but if you’re only kidding then, no i definitely was not serious.   
@ghostyTrickster: consider it a joke. a prank. haha!

__Ah, shit._ _

____ @dstrider: oh good god youre adorable  
@dstrider: listen man i was totally fuckin serious up there  
@dstrider: so serious im wearing a suit, buttoned up all the way and tucked into my crisp black slacks   
@ghostyTrickster: oh! thats...great!   
@dstrider: my tie isnt even whacky as hell like those funky weird dads in 90’s sitcoms  
@dstrider: got my briefcase that has serious as shit papers in it and not donuts  
@dstrider: like bills  
@dstrider: so whats your answer  
@dstrider: interested?? 

__Are you? You think yes. Live for the moment, John, go get ‘em. (Oh God you peed a little.) And he’s...a total dork?_ _

____ @ghostyTrickster: yeah! totally! i can...  
@ghostyTrickster: give you my number?   
@dstrider: eh I dont really use my phone tbh   
@ghostyTrickster: oh. i see.   
@dstrider: pesterchum?  
@dstrider: im at turntechGodhead hmu for a good time babe  
@dstrider: ghostyTrickster right   
@ghostyTrickster: no, its uh...ectoBiologist  
@ghostyTrickster: ghostyTrickster was taken :(   
@dstrider: yeah so was dstrider the bastards  
@dstrider: anyway I gotta run you know how being famous is  
@dstrider: later   
@ghostyTrickster: uh not really. but...yeah, later!

__What the ever-loving fuck just happened to your life. You just had a fucking conversation. With Dave Motherfucking Strider. The famous guy. The celebrity. You lay down on your bed, the pillow on your head. And you screamed. Pretty loud if it wasn’t for the pillow blocking most of it, but you’re pretty sure your dad probably heard it._ _

__“Rooo _ooo_ ooo _ooo_ ose!”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things pick up without actually going anywhere at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay well you convinced me im continuing this fic much to my displeasure (im kidding, im loving this)  
> here ya goooo an entire chapter filled with pesterlogs that isnt interesting at all noope
> 
> tumblr >> http://glitchystrider.tumblr.com
> 
> god i havent written in so long

Truth be told, you don’t really use Pesterchum at all. Sure, you’d use it if nobody was answering your text messages, but otherwise it was a complete waste of memory on your phone. The app was always just sitting there, unused and lonely. The little yellow icon always looked so sad. So, so sad. You’d never deleted because the poor thing deserved some love.

At least now you had a reason to use it. You know. To talk to...a celebrity. An actual real fucking celebrity who may or may not be interested in dating you. Even the thought of a real life person wanting to date you was a shocking development. (Oh good Lord, you’re peeing again).

The app was sitting open on your screen; ‘turntechGodhead’ was typed into the search bar, but you’d went back to your twitter messages numerous times to check if the spelling was correct, if the username was exactly as he’d sent it to you. Yesterday. Wait, was it too early to add him? He certainly hadn’t added you – but he was a busy celebrity. He obviously didn’t have time to message you at all. You should just forget about it. He doesn’t want to talk to you.

“John? Can you help with lunch?” Your father called from the kitchen. Thank fuck, if you spent any more time sitting on the couch and staring at your phone pitifully you think you might turn into an empty husk of yourself. You can just send the request after dinner. Yeah. You’ll do that.

...

But then your phone buzzed in your hand and a notification popped up, alerting you that yes, there is a Pesterchum friend request waiting for you to accept right there in your tray.

You dumped the phone in the couch cushions.

Until later.

 

\--

 

With dinner out of the way and a full belly of obscure food that you’d have never thought you could eat, like ice cream AND cake, the ice cream being both on and inside the cake (how is that possible), you sprinted up the stairs and fuck you forgot about that thing with your phone.

Halfway up the stairs, you turned around and walked back down again, huffing with the effort.

Once it had been retrieved, you walked back up the stairs, only to hear your father say another ‘I’m proud of you’ (when did he even come into the room??) to which you returned with a ‘That’s great dad!” before escaping AGAIN to the safety and comfort of your room.

God, everything takes so much effort.

You unlocked your phone, glaring at the little yellow notification icon with both a feeling of absolute dread and excitement. It would probably help your sanity if you weren’t currently dancing in the middle of your room and actually opened the fucking thing, so you stopped being a colossal idiot and did that.

turntechGodhead sent you a friend request!

Okay, done. Now you have to decide when to message him – it’d be too early now, he’d think you’re just a desperate fan for Christ’s...oh looks like you have a message, what are the odds.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist  [EB]  at 3:44pm --

TG: oh thank god  
TG: i thought youd given up i was distraught here  
TG: my heart is broken  
TG: little pieces of my gross squishy organ littered on the floor whos gonna clean that up huh  
TG: i might have to hire a sexy maid on the side just to pick up the broken mess that is my heart  
TG: you dont want that do you   
EB: oh my god.   
TG: so  
TG: uh  
TG: now that youre here i guess  
TG: hows it goin   
EB: that’s it? that’s your big pick up line?   
TG: oh you want pickup lines??  
TG: how about this one  
TG: did you fart  
TG: cus youre blowin me away

You audibly remark on what the fuck is this situation you’ve stumbled into and how you could possibly make it any worse in any way at all. Also, you’re surprised how daring you’re being. If you went back and read these messages you’d think someone had stolen your phone, but you’re pretty chill. Yep. Totally not screaming internally and wondering how the fuck this is a real thing that’s happening at 4pm on a Sunday. Nooo.

TG: did it hurt when you fell from heaven  
TG: i see your legs are a little broken

Okay that one was pretty funny.

EB: yes. please fix me, dr strider.   
TG: oh wow   
EB: oh god i didn’t mean that!!   
TG: no no it was funny  
TG: i almost cracked my super cool poker face a little to smile at that  
TG: very nice  
TG: A+   
EB: uhhh   
EB: thanks??   
TG: youre welcome bbe  
TG: so cutting to the chase here and i mean in a more serious note  
TG: youre still interested in that date right   
EB: well...yeah, i guess. but don’t you live in LA? I’m kind of in washington, how would that even work?   
TG: naw im in texas rn  
TG: but i literally own a private jet   
EB: impressive.   
TG: yeah so travel isnt really an issue  
TG: oh wait  
TG: i should probs prove its the real me right  
TG: that seems like a good idea before we do anything out of the ordinary

You didn’t even think of the fact that he might not be real! Here you were getting worked up over meeting him for a date and you could be meeting a 40 year-old maniac who wants to sell your parts on the black market! (As far as you knew, he was in his late 20’s, so he wasn’t exactly your age anyway, but that aside). At the most you were kind of humouring him – you didn’t actually believe you two would ever meet. But the comment about the private jet made you sort of believe that he was serious about this. You’d met him over the internet yesterday! YESTERDAY.

TG: here

\-- turntechGodhead sent file “imnotfakeipromise.img” to ectoBiologist –-

Oh look at that he really isn’t fake. Wow. You. Kind of had doubts after the matter came up. But there he was. White blond hair pushed slightly back on his forehead so you could see his hairline – he looked kind of like a ghost, which didn’t really help with the dark shades and dark suit (did he ever take those off?? The shades, not the suit!!) He was doing some sort of pout at the camera, his hand raised in a peace sign. A selfie for...wait. Was he in a meeting? He’s in a fucking meeting! There’s a whiteboard in the background covered in little doodles and diagrams, and you can see a suited shoulder beside him at the edge of the frame. Wow – you feel kind of...honoured that he’s talking to you in the middle of a meeting. You don’t remember when you sat down, but you’re glad you did because you may have fallen to the ground and caused a lot more problems as a result.

EB: are you in a meeting??   
EB: please tell me you aren’t in a meeting.   
TG: well if thats what you want to hear then no i am 100% not in a meeting   
EB: you’re in a meeting!   
EB: is it important? how did you take a selfie??   
TG: i lifted my phone and pushed the shutter button easy as pie  
TG: and meh i guess it could be important but im not really listening so whatever  
TG: here look ill take another one

\-- turntechGodhead sent file “4ubabez.img” to ectoBiologist –-

TG: oh shit looks like i got caught  
TG: take me away officer

This one was kind of shaky, it was a picture of him turning around in his seat to the guy next to him as if replying to a question; a blurry hand could be seen over his shoulder as if someone were reaching for the phone. It was kind of funny, the whole picture was chaotic.

EB: how are you even still replying to me?? didn’t they take away your phone? :o   
TG: christ im not a child i am a grown man  
TG: but yeah they took my phone the bastards   
EB: so...how are you talking to me still?   
TG: ok so you know how im super famous and awesome  
TG: well my shades are also pretty famous and awesome  
TG: ishades motherfucker   
EB: ....   
TG: oh what you dont know about ishades???  
TG: super awesome sunglasses that double as a sweet hands free device  
TG: like those google glasses  
TG: but better   
EB: where did you even get those from? i don’t think i’ve ever seen apple sell them...   
TG: nah apple couldnt make something as cool as this  
TG: i know a certain guy with the robo skills of a god   
EB: that sounds...pretty cool i think?   
TG: yeah man it is

It went quiet for a while. Neither of you knew what to say anymore, so you sat at your computer, phone in hand and silent for the next few minutes before opening a chat with Rose. She was online surprisingly, but as far as you know she takes Sunday’s exclusively to write. Unless yesterday was a subsitute. You messaged her anyway.

\-- ectoBiologist  [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 4:37pm --

EB: roooooooooooooose.  
EB: roooooooooooooooooooooose.  
EB: please tell me you’re there. i need help.   
TT: Yes, John. I’m here, at your service. My office is kind of closed right now, but I’ll raise the shutters just for you.  
TT: Though I must warn you, I’ve had a busy day and won’t hesitate to give my advice to you with an iron fist.   
EB: that’s great, so anyway!  
EB: remember that really terrible thing you did yesterday?? you know, the thing that basically killed me a little inside and embarrassed the shit out of me???   
TT: Oh, yes. How could I forget? You’re welcome, by the way. Usually I’d charge for my services, but since you are a friend I can give you a discount. Again, you’re welcome.   
EB: mmmhm.  
EB: well.  
EB: i need some...advice. about that.   
TT: And you just assumed I could give that to you, right? Surely there is someone else you could talk to about this, I hear from numerous sources that your good buddy Karkat is exceptional at this stuff. I’m not exactly a romance expert, John. Wizard porn – that, I am an expert in. Feel free to ask more about it.   
EB: karkat is great, but this is partially your mess so i hold you responsible for giving me advice.  
TT: Thank you.  
EB: and it isn’t romance, not really.  
EB: but  
EB: well he wants to meet me for a date, you know, and i don’t know whether or not to actually go meet him!!  
EB: rose please help me i’m frightened.  
TT: Sigh.  
EB: ROSEEE.  
TT: Have you made sure he’s real? That’s the first thing to do, I’d assume.  
EB: yes. he sent me pictures.  
TT: Safe for work pictures, I hope.  
EB: ugh, yes.  
TT: You sound disappointed.  
TT: Regardless of your sadness of not seeing the famous dong itself, he’s real. As in, he’s not a 40 year-old predator behind a computer screen. And I’m willing to bet that he isn’t going to take advantage of you somehow. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s a famous director – I really doubt he’d do anything to ruin his reputation.  
TT: The only question now: Do *you* want to meet him?  
EB: hm. you sound tense, are you ok?  
TT: Yes.  
EB: ....  
EB: ok then.  
EB: so you’re saying...wait what are you saying?  
TT: Go on a date with him. That was the intention, right? But if you’re still worried over it, I’m always here for a talk.  
TT: Except right now I have a splitting headache, so I’m going to have to kick you out of my office and pull down the shutters again.  
TT: Good luck, John.  
EB: uhhhhh thanks?  
EB: and good luck with your headache!

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 4:52pm –-

Hm. Well. Rose seems. Hm. No matter, you’ll bother about it tomorrow, you don’t want to anger her and unleash the power within. You can imagine Rose with a headache + black magic witchy dealios wouldn’t really go that well. You feel kind of bad for annoying her about your own problems, but you ARE worried about her, so it’s going at the top of your list of priorities.

TG: hey you still there  
TG: i had important bizznizz to attend to  
TG: as in they caught me again and i had to fight them off with a sicknasty fight sequence  
TG: so  
TG: are you dead  
TG: i cant seduce a dead body  
TG: i mean not that i want to seduce you  
TG: fuck  
TG: i mean im not into necrophillia is what i mean  
TG: do you see what i mean  
TG: uh  
TG: yup  
TG: feel free to jump in at any time   
EB: yeah i am still here. it was just entertaining watching you struggle.   
TG: is that what youre into  
TG: watching people struggle  
TG: were learning so much about eachother already   
EB: no, dude! gross! i am into normal things...   
TG: pfft   
EB: shut up.   
TG: SO ABOUT THAT DATE THEN   
EB: yeah, yeah, ok. a normal thing like a date sounds great.   
TG: wait you actually want to meet me   
EB: a little less now that you sound surprised, but yes i do.   
TG: okay then ill see when i can get free  
TG: ttyl bbz   
EB: uh yeah, ttyl to you too.

You were about ready to close the window when he messaged you again, a daunting proposal hanging in the balance. Suddenly you can’t breathe. Oh God.

TG: wait  
TG: im flying out tonight and im pretty much free tomorrow so i could head on over to washington no biggie and we could get dinner or something  
TG: ill be kind of sleepy and might possibly crash into the actual dinner but  
TG: whattya say   
EB: uh

“No biggie” is he serious? Is this really how famous people act? Ugh, you’re simultaneously facepalming and hyperventilating.

EB: sure, that sounds great!   
TG: cool ill let you know when i touch down  
TG: later   
EB: yeah, see you :B

Oh wow, you need to lie down. Time to sleep, Egbert. Maybe when you wake up again you’ll realize it’s all been one huge nightmare. What are you supposed to tell your dad?? “Hey, dad. I met this famous guy on the internet and he’s flying in his private jet to Washington tonight so that we can have dinner tomorrow.” Yeah, that would go well!

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooh thank you for reading this dumb thing i pulled out of my ass


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is even supposed to go here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what the fuck it's like, not even long after the last chapter and i'm already posting again  
> this chapter is exactly 4,000 words, so pretty much double what I usually write. so damn proud of me

For the rest of the meeting, you sat quietly with your ishades, scouring the twitter profile for any other information you might have missed. Okay...Yep, his name was John Egbert (ha, you’ll laugh at him for that later) and he’s 19 – not bad, really. You were only four years older? But that was it. No other websites were visibly listed. He didn’t ever really tweet that much either, so nothing really gave you any sort of hint as to what kind of person he was, but he did have a few thousand followers. Mostly, the tweets were links to some blog, but you couldn’t be bothered actually looking at it. Maybe later. People were leaving.

With your meeting now apparently adjourned, and having no recollection of what it was even about in the first place, you retrieved your phone from whoever the asshole was that took it from you and left the room as quick as they’d let you go. Which wasn’t nearly as fast as you would have wanted to leave – you’re a busy man, and your feet really hurt from walking around all day. You really couldn’t be bothered to listen to another guy tell you that your screenplays suck, or that no, that would not be a good idea for a movie, even if it was supposed to be ironically bad. Whatever. It worked for your last movies, and you never seemed to hear your crew complain when they pocketed their pay checks. At the most, you wanted to go home and shit around on the internet, and you were thankful that you had the rest of the night fuck you told John you were flying out tonight didn’t you. You moron.

You stopped midway down the hall to internally shout at yourself, and you didn’t even care that the people walking in the other direction looked at you like you’d grown a second head. It was admittedly stupid of you to say you could “drop-in” to Washington, you may have tomorrow free, but the effort to secure your plane and to actually get onto the fucking thing and fly all the way over to Washington sounded like a lot of bother you really couldn’t be fucked dealing with until some other time that wasn’t soon. And you didn’t even need to leave Texas. What you told him was complete bullshit. You’re just an idiot who froze the fuck up and typed a shitty sentence and sent it. But you don’t want to cancel. You really, really don’t.

You continued walking, pulling your phone and texting your assistant to sort out the shit that you were too tired to do yourself. Which was basically everything, including finding somewhere to stay in Washington while you were there, which would mean finding a hotel somewhat close to the general area John had supplied (you didn’t ask for his full address, can you even imagine how creepy and predatory that would sound from a guy on the internet??? That just wouldn’t go, no sir.) You’d also have to find a car to take you around – you wouldn’t have the luxury of driving your own, and you’ll sure as shit want to show off in front of this guy. So you ask for a fucking limousine. Also, a restaurant to actually go to is what you’re going to need on top of that. You’d love to have put your own personal effort into this date, but you’re literally drained of all enthusiasm for anything and right now the most you can manage is texting your assistant to assist you - not that you weren’t completely ecstatic about it, you’d only seen this dude’s face once and talked to him a whole number of twice (this is a really stupid idea now that you think about it, you can’t wait to get home so Dirk can patronize you.) So you had like, one opinion on him. Maybe two. And that was that he was very adorable and GOD would you want to see that in person at least once.

You almost walked into the door, were it not for the automatic sensors. You silently thank science for making it that far.

You also thank sunglasses for being invented and for being on your face. It’s fucking bright outside. You squint involuntarily behind the dark lenses, finding it hard to see from even behind the heavy shade.

And hot. Locating your car in the blistering heat killed you, but you eventually found it and climbed inside, huffing and puffing for ten minutes in the cool AC, feeling your skin drop to a regular normal-person temperature and finally pulling out of the pretty much empty lot to go back to your temporary Texas home. Man, Texas sucked. Why was it always so hot outside. Why. It was like a giant shit in face that everybody requested you wear suits all the damn time too, “to keep up appearances”. Yeah, you liked to look good, but GOD was it always as hot as Satan’s left testicle outside. You’d wear nothing just to spite them if you could. Tabloids would have a field day with that one, and you can’t say you wouldn’t find it amusing, either.

You drove for another ten minutes, cursing when the red lights stopped you and racing through green ones that you were sure would betray you when you got close; by the time you got to your destination you were practically throwing your car into a free space, while also falling halfway out from the driver’s side like an elastic band.

You really hope no one saw you. You’d have to deal with all the shit that came with the assumptions that you were probably buying dodgy drugs or meeting someone for a sleazy hook-up; the building wasn’t exactly 5-star. You’re pretty sure new graffiti appears on the walls every time you see it – which admittedly isn’t a lot, but it still looks like a skyscraper made of pure shit and garbage. Why do you still sometimes live there. (It’s not entirely bad though, the people are all pretty much decent folks; the ones you’ve run into anyway. A few of them have known you since before you’d hit the big time, so they just act chill around you – which is refreshing).

Nostalgia, you guess is the reason you’ve half-stayed. And also the fact that Dirk refused to move out, so you continued to save yourself the time of securing hotels and decided to stay in this shit hole instead. It just meant constantly being on the lookout for paparazzi. And also making sure you were physically fit; sometimes the elevator worked and sometimes it really didn’t. Your apartment was on the top floor of the building – you’d sooner throw yourself off the top than climb the stairs, but that meant climbing the stairs and falling to the bottom again. Not worth the effort. So you lived through the pain like the man you are.

The heat inside was no better than outside; you suspect the air conditioning was broken again just like everything else (though a quick look to your right confirmed that the elevator was working just fine, you scream inside) but nobody ever made any move to fix it. God this place was a dump. You’re tempted to buy the entire thing so you can hire actual employees to fix it. You aren’t even sure if anybody is here, until a movement behind the desk alerts you that yes, someone is actually alive in this goddamn building. You decided not to dilly-dally ad beeline for the elevator, just as the doors opened and an unfamiliar neighbour stepped out.

You’d done your best to avoid neighbours, specifically because from past run-ins they’ve freaked the fuck out and had to do a double take; sometimes they’d be scrambling for their phones for a sneaky snap of you, but you’re gone before they even realize what the fuck had just happened.

Which is basically what just happened with this exchange. There was the whole dramatic turn of the blonde woman, her drawn on eyebrows shooting up as the doors closed on your amused expression. You’re sure she’ll be asking questions as soon as she can speak again – but you in no way mean to toot your own horn. You’re just sort of a big deal without having control over it. It’s amusing sometimes. The public reactions to you are hilarious.

The penthouse required a key (why it was even called the penthouse was a fucking mystery, it was a piece of shit. But it prevented people from breaking into your apartment and stealing your shit, which was helpful) which you provided. It was a short ride to the top. The elevator shaft jolted and shifted with you in it, but that was expected, so you ignored your imminent, creaking death and waited for the doors to open to your apartment. Very slowly. Also very dangerously loud. You think you’ll take the stairs down.

You stepped over the threshold, breathing in the delightfully air-conditioned cold air, and the familiar stench of (temporary) home.

But it mostly just smelled like motor oil and fried electronics. Not exactly a friendly smell, but at least you knew Dirk was in.

“Dirk!” You hollered into the apartment. He predictably didn’t offer a reply, but you weren’t expecting one anyway.

Instead, you removed your jacket and threw it somewhere in the direction of the corner (you think, you just kind of...threw it. Who cares) and made your way to the sofa, promptly face-planting the cushions, where you would stay until told to leave. You breathed a sigh of relief. This...yes you can stay here forever.

After you’d gotten thoroughly comfy, your face buried deep in the pillowed softness of the couch, you felt yourself actually drifting off; at least the couch wasn’t leather, god-forbid you lie on something that your skin could weld itself to in this heat. You were peaceful and content, until the sound of Dirk’s boots sounded out like a heavy drumbeat on the wooden floor, rousing you awake again. God dammit, why’d you call him? Go away, shoo. Tryna sleep ‘ere.

“What? I’m busy.” He said above you. He sounded kind of irritated, but when did he not? Meh, whatever. 

“I’m ‘ome. Buh alo...I’m leabin’-"

“Dude, I have no idea what the fuck you’re saying. Lift up.”

You huffed, and raised yourself up on your elbows so your face was less mushed against the chair and more raised over the back. You glared at him, your shades slightly askew.

“I’m home.”

“Really. What was the other thing?” His dumb shades were pushed up into his hair, the blond, spiked sections messed up into many as the day had gone through; you’re almost sure he’d gotten black sticky oil in there, and you won’t be offering your shoulder for him to cry on when he has to wash it out. You could visibly see him roll his eyes at you, but you rolled your own right back, mirroring his action. He wrought a cloth in his hands, and you cringed away as the oil stains got ever close to the white couch. Why do you own a white couch. How does that make any sense, you basically live in a fucking oil rig?

“I gotta head out again, for a thing.”

“A thing.”

You nodded, reluctant to even tell him about John. But you kind of wanted to? Dirk was your brother, he deserved to know why you were leaving again – even if he didn’t really notice when you’d gone in the first place. Secretly, you think he cared. Obviously.

“So...it wouldn’t happen to be a _thing_ thing? No?” He said, gripping the edge of the sofa with both hands to balance his weight, apparently done with the dirty oil rag. Oh good lord, his hands were filthy.

You didn’t even know how to respond. What does that even mean in this situation. “...yes? No.” You said instead, watching his expression closely. For being only five minutes younger than him you really could not read him at all. Fuck twin telepathy, that shit’s fake as magic.

He huffed a sigh and flicked your forehead with a greasy finger, but you barely registered it until after it was done being a thing happening. A second eye-roll graced you in only ten minutes of you being here. This could beat his record!

“A date. You have a date.” Your sheepish schoolgirl-blush confirmed his statement. “And I’m assuming you’re being dumb about it and actually going to great lengths to get it right. I mean really, who the fuck takes a private jet to meet some dude –"

“How’d you know that—"

“—in _Washington_ , Oh my god, seriously man –"

“How’d you know he lives in Washing—"

“Dave. Seriously. You’re being stupid."

Thar she blows. You were certainly expecting Dirk to blow up at you over it, it’s always entertaining when he does; though it wasn’t going to stop you from going to see John. You like big gestures, and you had your mind set - you were going on this fucking date whether it killed you. Or even if Dirk killed you, whatever happens first.

“You literally just got out of a relationship. How are you even dating again.” He deadpans, hopping up to sit on the back of the couch.

You almost laugh. Dirk knows exactly about that relationship, it was pure shit from the start (well, you’re being a little hard on the girl, she was nice enough, but it really was shitty. Even she knew it herself.) He’s just trying to persuade you not to be a colossal idiot and cancel on John. You’d be an idiot if you DID cancel, that was the entire point.

“Pfft,” you waft a hand in front of his face irritatingly, he reflexively swats at you and he tips slightly on the edge of the sofa’s back. “That’s old news. Get with the times, bro. I am a free man, and as a free man, I’m gonna date whoever I damn well please. _Including_ a guy three hours away in another state.”

Now that you’ve said it out loud...it does kind of sound stupid. But if anything you’ve ever done in your life wasn’t stupid, you’d have accomplished diddly squat and have nothing to show for it, even. You’d still be working in fucking Taco Bell. You are very, very glad you are a tremendously stupid person.

Dirk gives you one last look from his perch on the back of the sofa before hopping off with the grace of an elephant and thumping back down the hallway to finish whatever the fuck it was he was doing before you interrupted. He could be silent and deadly a lot of the time, especially when you’re strifing or otherwise just messing around with fake Japanese ninja swords; but the dude was like a stampede of fucking stallions every other time of the day. You heard his door slam distantly as you lowered yourself back down onto the cushions. Numbly, you picked your phone from your trousers pocket and unlocked it, glad to be greeted by several missed calls from your lovely assistant. Great. What’s the problem now? You huffed a sigh of regret for you actions, and called him back. You cannot fucking _wait_ to get hounded by him for something utterly stupid. Again.  
He picks up through the second ring, as if he was waiting for you (he was, you decide).

“Vantas. To what do I owe the pleasure.” You asked, despite you having called him.

You wriggled around until your back was on the cushions, your face towards the ceiling. You lay languidly across the seating, and your almost certain your limbs have turned to jelly with how flopped out your body looks. Karkat drags you back from that blissful peacefulness though.

“Strider—"

“That’s _Mr_.Strider, to you,” you say, your voice dripping with authority. He’s quiet for a second, before you breathe out a quick laugh and a, “fucking with you. Now what do you want?”

“Your fucking plane is ready, so you can turn up whenever the fuck you like – I’ll be waiting at the airport for you.”

“Someone’s touchy today.”

“Fuck you, don’t take too long it’s already hot as all fuck out here and my face is going to literally melt to the ground if you don’t hurry your skinny assless body here pronto. Still have no idea why you’re even doing this, but hey. Let me know how your little romance goes.”

The jibe at your ass is hurtful, you will admit. You’ve been told your ass is nice, Karkat can suck a chode - your booty is damn fine and you won’t take anything else as a compliment.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll be there ASAP. What about the hotel and the dinner reservations and shit?” You gesticulate wildly with your hands, as if he can see. Obviously he can’t but it’s helping you remember at least what you asked him to do. 

You almost hear him nod as his voice shakes with frustration. It’s either that, or he’s literally vibrating – it’s not the first time, and you think you should probably refer him to some kind of heavy duty masseuse to iron out his crabby crinkles. But he’d probably he’d them alive. So no pass for that.

“Obviously, the fuck do you think I am? Anyway, hurry the fuck up, I don’t hear you moving.”

“Christ, okay.” You sit up and rustle some papers on the coffee table in front of you, hoping he’ll get the point. You doubt he buys it at all, but he hums decidedly and hangs up anyway, leaving you with the task of actually having to get up and do some important shit.

You decide he can fucking wait. You need to shower away today’s groggy sweat, and put on some comfortable clothes because you are not travelling in a fucking suit fuck that noise with the biggest pair of headphones you can find. So you abandon your wildly vibrating phone, angry grey messages filling the screen, and take a well-deserved cold shower. Ah yes. Sweet. Packing needs done too, so you shove what little you can grab into your tiny travel case – as well as a fucking suit, you do have a date, remember?? – and haul it to the stairwell door (you don’t want to get stuck in the lift, it sounded like it would drop you to the bottom – god knows you don’t want to risk that.) As an after-thought, you leave Dirk a note. It’s nothing long and loving, you literally just write ‘laterzz’ on a piece of paper and stick it under his door, hoping he’ll eventually find it and get that you left on your adventure.

Your phone rings one last time, and you answer it to the sound of a cacophony of a thousand angry bees. Or, Karkat. God save you now.

***

Karkat greeted you on the runway, but when you say greeted you really mean hit you with a newspaper, knocking your glasses sideways. You really don’t have any idea why you hired him in the first place, he’s a complete asshole - but the dude was entertaining and did everything you asked, and more, so it was a small price to pay in the end. Plus, you could literally tell him anything and he’d give a straight answer; at least he isn’t scared to say shit like most of those working with or for you.

“What the fuck did I say? P-R-O-N-T-O.” He spells out, enunciating each word with a finger jab to your back. You were walking on to the plane now, talking careful steps up the stairs and through the door with him behind you, still chattering about nothing important. You noticed the few people who were on the runway and the attendant at the door raise their eyebrows at Karkat’s behaviour, but they said nothing all the same.

“At least your brother has the decency to-"

“My what.”

Oh good lord no. You walk into the plane, only to be greeted again by Dirk. Except this time you weren’t hit by a newspaper, and were instead met full on by a shit eating grin. Which you didn’t return. He was sitting at one side of your little table, reclining with his feet on top as if he owned the damn thing, flakes of dirt from his boots littered the wooden top, and you wanted to rip them off of his feet and stick them in his face. You were half wanting to kick him the fuck out, but realized that would probably make you sound like a spoiled celebrity even more; so you swallowed whatever pride you had and took a seat opposite him. He looked the exact same as he did at home, except his hands were at least clean. The wife-beater and his face were not. Karkat slipped into the seat next to his, and immediately crossed his arms in a huff. He actually looks like he’d melted and been put back together several times; the tan on skin was anything but healthy. You didn’t tell him that. You aren’t stupid.

“You wanna tell me why he’s here?” You said, jerking your thumb at Dirk. Karkat rolled his eyes so hard they may as well have been looking at the inside of his skull.

“Familial support.”

“Shut up. And get your fuckin’ feet off the table.”

You looked back to Karkat, who looked right back at you. He shrugged, clear incredulity on his face.

“How the fuck should I know? I thought you invited him.” He seemed to pause for a few milliseconds, before leaning forward to properly confront you. “I don’t even know why _you’re_ here – you aren’t due out of Texas for the next few weeks. His presence here is as valid as yours.”

You tut, clearly you won’t be getting a clear answer here. So you ask another question, completely ignoring Dirk altogether; he didn’t seem to care, the guy was staring out of the window as the plane started to move. He seemed transfixed, but you never were that great at reading him in the first place.

“So you got that shit sorted?”

“No shit. I told you this on the fucking phone, clean your fucking aural canals once in a while.”

You nod, “Right, so you’ve got the limo and everything booked? I wanna make sure I get there on time, I haven’t told John when I - _we_ \- would actually be touching down. And you know, when the damn restaurant is even booked for. ‘Cus I’m yet to fuckin’ know that vital piece of information.”

Dirk snorted – he was definitely paying attention now – and turned around in his seat to actually face you. The plane lifted at that point, and you reflexively grabbed the seat’s arm as you were dragged backwards. You hadn’t even noticed the plane was moving much until it was in the damn air.

“You have nothing planned at all do you. You literally have nothing prepared.”

“Come on, Dirk, you actually expected him to have anything done? You’re more romantic than he is.”

They shared a look you couldn’t place. It went quiet for a good few minutes before you shrugged and decided not to ask, because no doubt was it something you’d hate to know that answer to, and want to erase from memory if you were told. But you’re sure you saw Dirk kick Karkat under the table, but other than that it was pretty quiet between them. You left it like that and pulled out your phone, prepared to fire John a message for lack of anything else to do. Maybe you do need to sort some things out. It might make things go a lot smoother, and at least put your mind at rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ive already got ideas for the next things that happen and im fEELIN THIS FIC im feelin it so much dawg take my tumblr so you can talk to me http://glitchystrider.tumblr.com
> 
> and yes i did just imply dirkat or kardirk was a thing


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a filler chapter don't get too excited.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist  [EB] at 7:32pm –-

TG: hey so i know i literally just had a conversation with you a few hours ago  
TG: but this flight fucking blows entertain me pls   
EB: wait youre on the plane already??   
TG: well yeah  
TG: i said i was flying out tonight  
TG: that was what i said right   
EB: well yeah...but i thought you meant later tonight   
TG: nah  
TG: uh  
TG: hey idk if its just me being dumb  
TG: but you seem a bit  
TG: reluctant??   
EB: do i?   
TG: yeah  
TG: i mean if you dont wanna do the date thing  
TG: id understand

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Dirk said, taking a seat beside you. You don’t even remember him getting up, and you certainly don’t remember hearing Karkat complain that Dirk had squeezed past him on his way out of the chair. But from a quick glance up you noticed that he had gone, probably to take a piss or something – it wasn’t like you kept him on a leash.

You ignored Dirk’s question, and discreetly shielded your phone from his view against your chest. Sneaky bastard had probably already read it anyway. “Where’d Karkat go?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but instead pulled his shades over his eyes and shrugged his shoulder. After what felt like a long-ass time of neither of you speaking, he reached out a long finger and tapped the casing of your phone.

“Don’t even say anything, bro.”

“What? I wasn’t going to speak.”

You roll your eyes at him while he stared back at you, a smile on his face. It was hardly there, but you knew him enough to tell when he was amused by something; it wasn’t visible to just any person, it was a classic Strider look.

“No, you were,” you said, sitting up straight to look at him properly. He followed your movements, carefully. “You were going to tell me that this dude is having doubts, that I should just go home and give up, that I’m being dumb and that I really _must_ be the younger twin because I’m so immature.”

He raised an eyebrow, but it just made you want to go on, “And another thing –“

“Okay, okay. Shut up, I get it, I call you dumb way too much. But maybe you’re just coming on too strong? You know, maybe he just feels a bit pressured.”

Oh shit, maybe you were. You’d lived so long taking big gestures to get to where you wanted to be, and you don’t even have any idea how stupid you’re being about it. How many people would you expect to fly their private jet across the country to have a date with you in the span of no more than a day? Exactly none, but yet here you are sitting in the luxury of your own jet, doing just that to meet a guy you’ve talked to three times. God, you _are_ dumb. Dirk was right.

“You still in there? Earth to Dave.”

You realized you hadn’t even answered Dirk, and instead fell into your self-conscious mind and indulged in self-hatred like the terrible person you are. He’d gotten up again – there it was, the silent ninja you rarely heard in the apartment – and moved back to being across from you. His glasses were still over his eyes – you wondered why, he only ever wore them in public - but you could feel him trying to make eye contact with you again. You’d closed your eyes the moment you saw him do it.

“What.”

“You hear what I said?”

You nodded. You couldn’t be bothered replying with actual answers anymore. And besides, John hadn’t even replied to you. You guess your mood had dropped since the issue arose, Dirk can just deal with you being a pissy baby for the rest of the flight. Although you were going into it a bit too enthusiastic, your big gestures don’t always come across as friendly ones – but you’re used to them being just that, and so is everyone else. Why won’t John reply!

“Look, I can see you’re upset. That’s understandable,” Dirk was trying really hard to make you un-upset, wasn’t he. Well, it’s his doing, he can fix it. You wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t bring it up, so you folded your arms for the effect. “But just because he feels... _overwhelmed _by you doesn’t mean you won’t have a good time on your date. You’re a celebrity. Who isn’t overwhelmed by you?” Oh, boy was he backpedaling. First he tells you it’s a stupid idea, now he’s telling you’ll have fun? Wow.__

__It wasn’t like he didn’t have a point there. Most people you meet, with the exception of Karkat and the people you have meetings with all the time, they’re somehow scared of you – you’re a fucking person too, what’s the big deal? Is the sunglasses? It’s probably the sunglasses. Maybe you should go naked for a while, see how that plays out. Or maybe you’re just making silly excuses and you should listen to what Dirk has to say before tuning out again._ _

__“All I meant before was that you’ve got to take these things into consideration. Would he really want to be picked up in a limo and taken to a fancy restaurant?”_ _

__“...I guess not.”_ _

__“Then don’t do that. What do normal people do? Take him to a movie. Take him to Denny’s. I’m sure he’d appreciate that way more.”_ _

__As harsh as Dirk’s words were, he was right...again. God, why is he always right. But you didn’t feel so sad about it anymore, and hey, maybe John would feel way better about meeting you if you took him to the movies or something mundane like that? You narrowed your eyes at Dirk, and he gave you _the look_ again; it didn’t make you so annoyed like it did before. You really need a lesson on how to be normal. You heard him sigh and shake his head, as if hearing something stupid, but you didn't bother to ask anything else of him._ _

__Turns out John had replied. Several times. Another quick glance at Dirk, who’d taken his glasses off completely at this point, left you feeling kind of suspicious. But you didn’t pursue the feeling, John had been waiting long enough for you to reply._ _

__

__ EB: no no! i do.  
EB: it’s just...kind of a big deal?  
EB: wait that sounded stupid. i mean. going in a limo to a fancy restaurant seems...a bit much for a first date?  
EB: that’s more an anniversary type dinner, don’t you think?  
EB: uh  
EB: dave?   
TG: oh   
EB: sorry if i sounded rude!  
EB: i still want to go on a date with you. just  
EB: not on such a big scale. _ _

__

__It’s at this point you realize Dirk has got to have some sort of magical power. Either that or he’s been talking to John, but you somehow doubt that even being a factor. You still want to punch him in the face, he knew all along how John felt and didn’t even say! What a bastard. You tell him that. He pretends to not know what you’re talking about._ _

__

__ TG: nah nah i see what you mean  
TG: i get it  
TG: screw the dinner and limo how does a movie sound  
TG: you can pick   
EB: yeah! yeah sure that sounds great!  
EB: sorry, again. i didn’t mean to sound picky about it.  
EB: i don’t want you to think i’m being ungrateful.   
TG: dont worry about it  
TG: i shouldnt have laid all that on you so fast it was dumb of me  
TG: if i ever do that any other time dont hesitate to pull out the ‘youre a colossal douche’ shotgun and shoot me outback with it _ _

__

__Implying there will be any other time, but you don’t explore that notion any further. You hear Karkat come back from whatever he was doing and settle back in beside Dirk, but he doesn’t say anything surprisingly. He shifts around for a while, but falls silent quickly. You ignore him._ _

__

__ EB: hehe, will do :B  
EB: but i guess i should leave you to it, i don’t want you to be tired tomorrow!   
TG: yeah thatd be the worst  
TG: and ive got an hour or so left on this flight anyway so ill hit the hay   
EB: okay. sleep well!   
TG: yeah i will  
TG: later _ _

__ \-- turntechGodhead  [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]  at 8:51pm -- _ _

__

__You heave a euphoric sigh of relief and put your phone away, only to be caught in both Dirk and Karkat’s headlights. They’re like vultures; the minute you have a problem or something in your life goes upside down they’re _there_ , picking the words from your mouth and feeding on your worries. Which, you can’t say is a bad thing. At least they care. But fuck if it wasn’t annoying._ _

__

__***_ _

__

__You roll over from where you’re lying on the sofa to groan in frustration. Your glasses were halfway off of your face, but you couldn’t find it in you to fix them. “Ugh” is how you feel right now. Ever since Dave messaged you again about the date, you’ve wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball and not move; why is life so difficult? How do you even get into these situations? You would’ve have been so much better off if you didn’t do those stupid things you did in the past. Like telling Rose about your crush in the first place. Could you even imagine not being in this situation right now. Bliss._ _

__

__ TG: hey idk if its just me being dumb  
TG: but you seem a bit  
TG: reluctant?? _ _

__

__Aw, shit._ _

__The sofa was uncomfortable on your back, so you sat up, taking your phone with you and firing off your reply. It was quiet elsewhere in the house, so you let out another grunt in favour of actually dealing with the problem at hand. Your dad was out at work still, and wouldn’t be home until a little later; so you were essentially alone in the house with no one to listen to your groans and no one to help you straighten them out._ _

__ TG: i mean if you dont wanna do the date thing  
TG: id understand _ _

__

__You do! That’s the point! But you don’t particularly want to do the date thing if it’s...Dave’s way. It’s a big deal for no reason, like he’s trying to impress you – but you don’t want him to make a huge deal. A limo to a fancy restaurant is pretty cool, you’ll admit. But you don’t even know the first thing about fancy restaurants, and you don’t even own a suit! You wish he could understand that without you having to tell him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful for this stuff. You’d just have a way better time _not_ doing it._ _

__Ugh._ _

__Ugh, Ugh._ _

__You send off a few quickly worded messages, in the hopes that you’ll get your thoughts across. But they all sounded dumb when you reread them again, and you really wish you could unsend them because he’s not going to want to talk to at all after not reading them._ _

__Dammit, why won’t he reply!_ _

__You’re about to send another message when you get one from an unknown contact – they haven’t sent a request across, but you’re still somehow in a chat with them...weird. You open the message anyway, and are confused as all hell by its contents._ _

__

__ \-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]  at 8:02pm –- _ _

__ TT: John, right?   
EB: uh  
EB: yes?   
TT: I’m Dave’s brother.  
TT: You’re going on a date with him tomorrow.   
EB: did he tell you that?   
TT: Not in the traditional sense, but yeah, he told me.  
TT: You could also say he “told me” you’re being...reluctant?   
EB: oh god you read his messages didn’t you.   
TT: Maybe.  
TT: But that’s beside the point. What’s up?  
TT: Dave doesn’t know I’m talking to you, and I won’t tell him what you’re saying to me if you don’t want me to. My lips are sealed.   
EB: i don’t think i feel comfortable telling you if i’m honest...  
EB: but  
EB: um   
TT: Go on. _ _

__

__You aren’t sure why you trust this guy, but he seems to know a bit too much to not be telling the truth. Something about the way he speaks reminds you a little of Rose, that could be it. If you changed the words to purple you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference...so you man up and tell him everything._ _

__

__ EB: fuck it.  
EB: don’t get me wrong, i appreciate the lengths he’s going to! i mean, a limo sounds great.   
TT: It does.   
EB: but he’s coming on a little strong and i feel...   
TT: Yeah, go on.   
EB: pressured? not like that, but i kind feel like i HAVE to do all of this crazy expensive stuff   
TT: Hm. _ _

__

__You don’t even register him there anymore, you’re spewing blue bullshit onto your screen and you can’t stop it. Maybe it’s because his brother isn’t as testy as Rose is, and his replies are either one word or nothing. So you just continue to tell him your feelings. Why? You don’t know._ _

__

__ EB: i feel overwhelmed! i’d prefer to go to the movies or denny’s or something, not a fancy restaurant. you know?  
EB: maybe it’s because he’s a celebrity and it’s normal for him.  
EB: but honestly i’d rather not do all of that stuff.  
EB: it’d be fun just to do normal things!   
TT: Hm. Yeah, I know what you mean. You should probably tell him that though, he’s being a little bit of a brat over it.   
EB: you’re sure he wouldn’t flip out?   
TT: Believe me, the only thing he’d ever flip out over is if someone pissed in his apple juice. Trust me on this, John – if you tell him how you feel it’ll be better for both of you.   
EB: wow. okay.  
EB: thanks.  
EB: why...are you messaging me though?   
TT: As funny as it was watching Dave freak out over you, it was getting really fucking annoying.  
TT: Only solution was to message you and fix it myself before he got way more testy with me than necessary.   
EB: or way more timeausTesty, hehe.   
TT: Good fucking Lord Dave has made a huge mistake in picking you.  
TT: Anyway, tell him your woes. Later. _ _

__ \-- timeausTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 8:37pm –- _ _

__

__You take a few seconds to face plant into the sofa cushions. Your awkward joke was a giant pile of mistake and regrets, why did you think that would be funny in any universe?? You raise yourself up from the ashes to see that Dave had finally messaged you back, suspiciously right when his brother had stopped messaging you. You don’t dwell on it for much longer though, because his one word reply of ‘oh’ has you panicking like a love-struck maniac. You think about what you told his brother, and decide why not just _tell_ him. Who knows him better than a family member? You basically got confirmation that he wouldn’t freak out, so you think you’ll be fine. It doesn’t stop your face from heating up and going ridiculously red as you try to salvage the situation like a box of old soggy pictures from a shipwreck. (You _feel_ a bit like a soggy picture.)_ _

__Surprisingly, he agrees with you. You’re taken aback to the point that you have to stand up and walk around a bit before returning. It’s going so smoothly! He offers to take you to a movie, which sounds great. Nothing better than a movie-related first date, you think. It’ll open all kinds of conversation opportunities! Well, okay, maybe not. But you can dream all you want._ _

__You agree, and tell him you’re going to go light-heartedly. IRL you’re dancing like a lunatic, and it’s only the sound of your dad’s car pulling into the driveway that stops you acting any crazier._ _

__You abscond to your room before he can so much as utter another, "I'm proud of you"._ _

__You silently thank Dave’s brother on your way up the stairs. What a saint. You wonder what they’re both like in person._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didnt i update this like yesterday
> 
> welp here you go another chapter that is totally not a filler DONT TRUST THE SUMMARY ITS WRONG


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boring, but I introduce a popular ship to the docks.

You’d been lying on your bed for the last hour, narrowly avoiding your dad. (By narrowly, you mean he’d come into your room every ten minutes to check on you, but you’d faked sleeping so he wouldn’t pester). You didn’t want to ignore him - you did - but you kind of wanted to avoid talking to anyone right now, especially your dad. You were too hyped up/terrified of your date tomorrow, and were going over and over in your head on what you should wear, what you should eat beforehand so you don’t smell like an ass crack, and even if you should wear your glasses or not. You felt like you were going for a job interview; who knows what Dave is like in person? How do famous people even date anyway – do they judge you on whether you’re worthy or not? You can’t talk to your dad about that, god only knows how that would go.

Maybe you do need to talk to someone, just a little bit.

Not Rose. She’s still on your list of ‘people you have to ask what’s wrong to’ and she probably still has a headache. You’ll get around to it. (She’s the only one on it so far).

You roll over on your side and resume the scrolling through your phone – you don’t know how many times you’ve dropped it on your face while lying on your back – and come across a contact. You haven’t spoken to him in a while...but you’re _sure_ he’d be fine with you messaging him? It’s been a few days...can’t hurt.

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 7:33pm --

EB: hey karkat!  
EB: how is uh  
EB: how is it going?   
CG: EGBERT   
EB: karkat!   
CG: LONG TIME NO SPEAK.   
EB: uh yeah  
EB: about that...see the thing is   
CG: OH NO, DON’T EXPLAIN. YOU DON’T HAVE TO GIVE ME AN EXCUSE FOR NOT TALKING TO ME IN THE LAST 3 OR 4 DAYS, BUT WHO’S COUNTING! I’M JUST GOING TO ACCEPT THE FACT THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO CONTINUE THIS SHITTY EXCUSE FOR A FRIENDSHIP AND MOVE ON. I HAVE BIGGER FISH TO FRY, JOHN.   
EB: okay i have no idea what any of that even meant, but i want to talk to you!  
EB: and it’s not like YOU got in contact with me!   
CG: I HAVE A VERY BUSY SCHEDULE, THANK YOU VERY FUCKING MUCH. MY JOB IS *IMPORTANT*, UNLIKE YOUR SHITTY BLOG WITH YOUR UTTERLY DESPICABLE TASTE IN MOVIES PLASTERED ALL OVER IT LIKE THE FESTERING DIARRHEA IT IS.   
EB: bluh, you’re just jealous because i have more followers :B  
EB: what is it you work as again??   
CG: THAT  
CG: IS NOT IMPORTANT.  
CG: NOW WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT I’M VERY BUSY.

 

You wonder quietly to yourself what Karkat _actually does_ for a living. He’s never said, and you feel like it’s something really embarrassing – like a fisherman, or a _baker_ \- god forbid – or...yeah let’s not go down that route. It can’t be that bad, and you can’t understand why he won’t tell you. Why does it even have to be a secret, you _run a blog_.

 

EB: i’ll get it out of you! count that as a threat, mister.   
CG: THE DAY I’M SCARED OF YOUR PANSY ASS THREATS IS THE DAY I TELL YOU MY JOB.  
CG: WHICH, COINCIDENTALLY, IS NEVER!  
CG: NOW PLEASE GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT, I DO ENOUGH WAITING AND SERVING ALL DAY WITHOUT YOU ADDING TO THE MIX.   
EB: you’re either a waiter or some kind of slave, i’m hoping it’s the first one.   
CG: JOHN I’LL COME TO WASHINGTON RIGHT THIS FUCKING   
CG: UH  
CG: NEVERMIND.   
EB: okay...  
EB: so,  
EB: relationships huh?   
CG: GO ON.   
EB: let’s say...  
EB: i met a guy. he’s kind of a big deal? like, celebrity wise. wow, big deal!  
EB: and, ok maybe i’m blowing it out of proportion but...  
EB: what am i supposed to do on dates?? i do not have any idea! i know you are into that stuff sooo...you think you can give me a few pointers? even just a little one!!   
CG: OK. TELL ME ABOUT HIM.  
CG: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GIVE YOU DATE IDEAS IF I KNOW ABSOLUTELY ZERO ABOUT HIM. I KNOW NOTHING AT ALL ABOUT THIS GUY. THROW ME A FUCKING BONE. WHAT’S HE LIKE??? WHAT’S HE DO???  
CG: DOES HE LIKE HIS ASSISTANT?    
EB: assistant? i don’t think he’s mentioned his assistant...  
EB: but...he’s kind of  
EB: ok  
EB: he might be dave strider.   
CG: WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   
EB: yeah i know i couldn’t believe it either! what are the chances of me dating dave strider?   
CG: OK, FIRST OFF, YOU’RE NOT DATING HIM, YOU’VE KNOWN HIM FOR WHAT? TWO FUCKING DAYS? AND SECOND, THAT TELLS ME LITERALLY NOTHING AT ALL. DO YOU THINK I PERSONALLY KNOW DAVE STRIDER? DO YOU THINK I SPEND EVERYDAY EXCEPT FOR WEEKENDS AND DAYS I’M UNABLE TO, WITH HIM??? I GOT NEWS FOR YOU, JOHN. I DON’T. HE’S A STRANGER.   
EB: i didn’t mention how long i’d know him for! what are you talking about?  
EB: karkat are you ok???   
CG: VERY GREAT. SO GOOD.   
EB: ok...soooo pointers?   
CG: TAKE HIM STARGAZING, HE PROBABLY ENJOYS THAT. NOT THAT I KNOW THAT SOMEHOW. EVERYBODY LIKES FUCKING STARS, INCLUDING YOU NOW APPARENTLY.  
CG: ALSO I’M *ASSUMING* HE LIKES GUMMY APPLE SOURS, I’M SURE HE’D APPRECIATE IT IF YOU BOUGHT SOME. AND DON’T BE A CHEAPSKATE EITHER BUY THE BIG BAGS, THE ONES THAT COULD FEED AN ENTIRE HOUSE OF OBESE SUGAR-INDUCED CHILDREN.  
CG: PEACE OUT, EGBERT. HAVE FUN WITH YOUR DATE TOMORROW.  
CG: I HAVE TO ACTUALLY LEAVE NOW FOR A WORK THING, SO I’LL NOT EVEN TRY TO MESSAGE YOU BACK AT ALL. NOT THAT I WAS PLANNING TO.   
EB: karkat no, wait!

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] has ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 7:52pm –-

EB: wait how did you know it was tomorrow??  
EB: dammit.

 

You blink at the empty screen, desperately waiting for him to log back on and reply to you. But...nope. Looks like he’s gone. You throw the phone to the bottom of your bed in an angry fit, and then let out a sigh worthy of all the wind gods put together. Hopefully your dad didn’t hear you...you don’t want him asking what’s wrong, do you?

It takes you a second to realize what Karkat had just said.

All of that complaining that he didn’t know Dave personally, but also knowing strange little facts about him...and mentioning the waiting and serving, and also if he liked his assistant. And also that thing about coming to Washington but then totally ‘neverminding’ the sentence! You internally facepalm every part of your body that’s on show.

Karkat is...

...a _huge_ fan of Dave! Duh. Why’d he never mention it?

Silly Karkat. You’ll be having a word with him when you see him next.

 

 

Fuck, Washington is noticeably colder than Texas. More humid, yeah, but you can really fucking tell that you’re going to be complaining a lot more. The heavy dampness of the air settled on you through your shirt, and you could feel a sweat coming on rapidly. You hated all weather that wasn’t cold, at least then you had an excuse to wear big hoodies and sit inside all day. But hey, at least it isn’t bright outside.

...It’s currently dark. Dark enough that you stumble your way out of the plane last and land half on Dirk and half on your own two feet, partially standing on Dirk but you’re still standing nevertheless, and no matter how much you blush about it and internally squeal you’re really glad he can’t see that. He tugs you along by your waist as Dave strides on ahead, confidence blooming in his chest. You wouldn’t be surprised if he turns into the fucking sun with how much he’s beaming right now. What the hell happened while you were in the bathroom? Did he and Dirk have a brotherly feelings jam or somrthing? You’re glad you won’t see him much tomorrow. If John goes through with your ‘tips’ you’d given him, Dave is going to be one happy man. You’d B.A.S.E jump into a volcano filled with acid before you choose to see that – more so than you’re seeing now.

Speaking of John, what the fuck.

The minute Dave had mentioned a John, you were scrambling at his social networking sites to see who it was, whether he’d mentioned anything on one of the or not – and yup, your suspicions were correct. John motherfucking Egbert was on his feed, his dumb dorky face filing the screen. You swallowed a throat of bile as you slowly closed the tab on your phone, burning out a minor headache from the shit you’d have to deal with now. John wasn’t...bad, he was just...John? There wasn’t one thing you could think of that the two had in common, and you knew them both very well. Not to mention you’d have to answer to the big problem of John finding out you worked for _Dave Motherfucking Strider_. As his _assistant_.It was more of a match-made in hell than heaven – but you neglect to think of your own relationship woes with another Strider, that was a mistake from the beginning and you knew it. (Didn’t stop you from pursuing that like it was a particularly fat rat and you were an especially hungry cat.)

“Wait, where are we going?” Dave stopped abruptly, giving you only a little bit of time to spring away from Dirk. He let you slip out, taking a step to the side to further the distance. Dave didn’t notice when he turned around to stare at you both.

“The hotel, shit brains. The car is right there, take off your dumb ass shades and open your eyes.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to know where I’m heading. And no, I will not take off my shades.”

You watched him turn toward the direction of the car you’d helpfully pointed out, a childish pout playing on his lips. He raised his head, as if to look down on you, but you couldn’t even see him properly from behind, so the act was lost in the darkness. He really is an interesting man, you think. Beside you, Dirk snorted, almost reading your mind. Prick.

 

 

\-- tentacleTherapist  [TT]  began pestering ectoBiologist  [EB] at 8:10pm --

TT: Hello, John.  
TT: I suppose I’m ready to open up to you. And yes, I was lying earlier when I said nothing was wrong. Although the headache was a legitimate ailment I was experiencing.   
EB: ha. i knew it.   
TT: I’m less willing to tell you now that you’re gloating about it, but I suppose this is what ‘friends’ are for.   
EB: of course. our only purpose is to taunt and laugh at our buddies’ misfortunes.   
TT: Yes, I gathered that. I’m having girl troubles, if you must know.   
EB: uh.  
EB: like...*girl* troubles?  
EB: i’m not that educated rose! can’t your mom help? I’m not up to date on....that stuff   
TT: No, John, I’m not asking you about menstruation. I’m a 19 year old woman, I think I’m educated enough on the subject without having to ask another 19 year old *male* about his views on the topic. But thank you for acting somewhat concerned.  
TT: My problems lie in the hands of a female. A female I have a particular attraction to. I’m having trouble ‘wooing her’ if you catch my obviously placed drift, so my ‘problems’ in her hands is literally me telling you that she is holding my beating, love-lust heart in the palms of her hands.   
EB: wait   
TT: And before you ask any questions, yes, obviously I’m very fucking gay.  
TT: Now. My actual problem is that I don’t know how to ‘make her swoon’. And I regret to ask, but surely. SURELY. You can give me some pointers. Anything at all.   
EB: ummmm. well, first things first – does she know you like her?? you can’t woo her if she doesn’t know you like her!   
TT: ...   
EB: that’s like, rule number one of dating!   
TT: John, please. I’m clearly far more underdeveloped than you when it comes to this. I’m like a Kindergartner of love, and you’re the intimidating tenth-grader, how will I ever expect to learn if you don’t teach me? I am terribly uneducated.   
EB: weird metaphors aside...kind of uncomfortable metaphors aside....telling her is the first step.   
TT: Yes, but that’s where we run into a metaphorical brick wall. You see...she has a friend. Although I would call her more of an authority figure with no right to the authority. And I suppose you could say she dislikes my presence in our friend group - there have been a number of times when she has taunted me over my crush on Kanaya, which to be frank with you wasn’t that obvious, and...   
EB: ??  
EB: spit it out!   
TT: Well. She’s very close to Kanaya. And even I can see that Kanaya likes her a little bit too much for her own good; as I have mentioned before in between my lines of purple – this girl is an unappealing bitch. They aren’t dating, believe me they are not, so I’m not breaking apart a relationship. But she is making it hard to get to Kanaya at all and quite obviously stringing her along. And it’s killing me.   
EB: hm. well. uh. um.   
TT: What does that mean in English?   
EB: i think you should tell kanaya anyway! Maybe she wont reciprocate, but at least she knows?  
EB: this other girl sounds like trash.   
EB: surely if kanaya is close to her she knows that?   
TT: That is a possibility.  
TT: Perhaps if I ask her over, and tell her, it will soften the blow a little bit.  
TT: The blow being me confessing my undying love to her.   
EB: maybe...gently let her know?  
EB: instead of a blow more of a...breeze?   
TT: I see. Not a bad idea. I’ll see what I can come up with, thank you, John.   
EB: my pleasure!   
TT: In the meantime, how are things with Dave? Your date is tomorrow, right?   
EB: oooooh yeah. that.  
EB: i talked to karkat about some tips and pointers and he said some strange things!   
TT: Oh?   
EB: hold on, ill send you the file.

\-- ectoBiologist sent file “ithinkhesabigfanofdave.txt” –

TT: John.   
EB: yeah?   
TT: I don’t think he’s a big fan of Dave.   
EB: you don’t? why not?   
TT: A hunch, I suppose you could call it.  
TT: He seems more...acquainted with him, than a fan would ever be.  
TT: And no, not like that.   
EB: like what then?   
TT: Nevermind. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. You should probably listen to his tips, though, they seem legitimately factual if I’m reading the tone right. It might just be the obnoxious caps-lock he always has going on. Who knows?   
EB: ...right.  
EB: i’d better buy some candy then.   
TT: Yes, I think you better had.   
EB: ok, i’ll talk to you later then?  
EB: good luck with kanaya!  
EB: she sounds nice.   
TT: I told you absolutely nothing about her aside from the fact her friend is a cold-hearted monster. But, yes, she is nice.   
EB: see! i am a psychic.  
EB: bye rose!   
TT: Goodbye, John. Have fun on your date with quite nearly the most famous man in America right now.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist  [EB] at 8:37pm --

 

Being one of the only lesbians in your area was a difficult task. The only other lesbian was your crush. The problem with this? She did not have a crush on you, or even know about your crush on her. But you were her friend, and that sucked way more than you only being able to admire her from afar. She had her eyes on the bad bitch, the bigger woman, the top lady, the _queen_ ; you were but a pawn to her, hardly one to be looked over twice.

You wouldn’t push it, part of you wanted her to suddenly _know_ about it so you didn’t have to go through the trouble of telling her – it would make things a lot easier. This was partially why you wanted to help John, and partially why you suddenly got mad at him for this actually working out.

You just really liked her.

Perhaps there was some way to confess your feelings without actually telling her, so she would get the hint? You sat pondering this, when a notification on your desktop alerted you; it was Facebook. You hardly used it, but it was useful to have in terms of looking good for job applications, and also for meddling in people’s business. Or snooping. You liked to do that sometimes.

You didn’t pay attention to Facebook events. Normally you would immediately decline, but this one had been sitting on a ‘maybe’ for a good few days; it was a house party at the Amporas’. You knew for a fact that Vriska, the previously mentioned bitch, would be present, which also meant Kanaya would be going. What better way to confess your feelings than through a few alcohol induced shenanigans? ...Or so your mother would say.

...You’ve learned not to take everything your mother says seriously. But sometimes, she had sense. And on those rare occasions, you listened.

“Roseeey! Do ya think I could. Do ya think I could dring thiss... this en _tire_ bottle of wine. If I tried?”

This was not one of those times. This was one of those ‘restrain your mother and hide the wine’ times. Unfortunately this was a 24/7 feat, and she made it especially hard for you to have any other times – it was the default mode for her. You can’t even remember the last time she’d spoken a coherent sentence, without slurring or messing up entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm terrible at writing rose tbh. and I wanted to write more, but I just sorta tacked on the rose bit and brought it up to 3000 words, so. HERE YOU GO, FUCKERS.
> 
> kidding ily.
> 
> also I changed my tumblr >> http://doki-strider.tumblr.com
> 
> <3<3 THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR LOVE GUYS,


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave arrives at his hotel safely, but brings up a touchy subject. John retrieves some candy and goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I....really need to work on this fic being form the POV of john more don't I?
> 
> don't worry the date will be more on his POV, dave's celeb life and dirk's fling with karkat was just more interesting to write about
> 
> anywhozizzle pls enjoiiiiii xDDD sUBscrIbe 4 mOar LOL TACOZ
> 
> also sorry if this sounds like i was implying stridercest because i really wasnt please dont think that ehhhh

The car ride wasn’t particularly long, but it was the atmosphere in it that made the ride incredibly shitty. For one, the driver was a heavyset man that looked like he hadn’t washed in at least three years, and for the first thirty years of his gross and sweaty life he’d been furiously working out to the point of being disgustingly buff. There was no lying about it when you said you were scared. You were terrified. Which was why you’d stuck earbuds in your ears to avoid him speaking to you, or you having to speak to him. Why was he a _chauffeur_? Why not, you’re blindly guessing here, a heavy-weight champion? Or at the very least, a bodyguard. Or perhaps he could take over for Atlas, the titan that holds up the fucking world, because this guy had the strength to hold up at least five earths and the moon. You’re sure he was busting out of his suit, the seams looked dangerously ready to explode in your face, but you avoided looking him in the eye – or, beaten up sunglasses. Not that you could see anyway, it was frustrating trying to see through sunglasses to look at sunglasses. You shrunk back in your seat a little, already thinking of revenge plots for Dirk and Karkat for making you sit in the front beside Beefy-Bob. What assholes, you were the big man - figuratively speaking; Muscle-Man over here could rip you in half with his toes – you deserved to sit in the back in peace and luxury while they both squashed into the passenger seat beside Sweaty-Simon. Ah yes, that would be a good idea. You’ll remember that for next time you’re forced into a car with them.  
You’re stuck in this daydream for a good three minutes before Karkat whacks you in the shoulder with the back of his hand. He was apparently saying something, but of course _you_ were fantasizing about them getting pummeled by a 6ft 3 titanium brick.

“Can you even hear me through those shitty earbuds?”

You turned halfway around in your seat, pulling out the earbuds as you did; halfway because Ripped-Ron grunted at you for moving too much and being unsafe in his car, and looked at Karkat over the rims of your shades. You gripped the seat’s back, the seatbelt’s edge already threatening to slice off your head.

“What? I couldn’t hear you through these shitty earbuds.”

He visibly shook, his body vibrating with a coursing anger you could probably feel from Mexico. You shrunk away for the second time that entire car ride, removing your hand for fear of losing fingers, because Karkat was turning a delightful shade of red. You looked to Dirk for help, but he just snorted softly in disinterest and sat back against the leather seat of the car. Fat lot of help he was. Why’d he come anyway? To mock you and laugh at your failure? Actually, you wouldn’t even put it past him.

Karkat took a deep breath, his eyes drifting gently closed as he apparently found his inner peace in front of your eyes. “Alright, listen again shitstains – you too Kamina,” Dirk’s mouth turned down slightly, but otherwise he didn’t do much to show he was actually listening, or even to show that he might have been offended by the name. You were more surprised that Karkat knew who Kamina was, to be honest. The car jostled slightly, and the corner of his shades knocked on the window. “I didn’t know Dirk was coming, so I only booked two _single_ rooms. Someone is going to have to share. And since you two are brothers –"

“Wow, hold up. I’m not sharing a bed with Dirk, that’d be almost as weird as me sharing a bed with you. No offense.”

You really were not sharing a bed with him – you were both clingy fuckers. As much as it seemed like the both of you were cool, collected, and aloof, you really liked the idea of having a body to hug at night. When you were both around 10 years old and your aunt could only afford one mediocre-sized bed, you’d always wake up with drool on your shoulder and him with drool in his hair. It was always awkward to wake up next to him knowing that you’d _cuddled_. Shiver. Especially as you got older, it had gotten to the point that you’d take turns sleeping on the couch. But it wasn’t the fact that you were related, you just really didn’t want to wake up as a grown-ass man who knowingly receives familial affection from his brother – that was also why you didn’t want to share with Karkat. He was like a brother. An angrier, wasps’ nest kind of brother that really would not appreciate you accidentally nuzzling against his arm and drooling in his hair in the night. He would gut you where you slept. 

And you’re certain Dirk and Karkat didn’t think of each other as brothers. They hardly spoke!

“I’d happily share with Karkat over you.” Dirk stated, side-eyeing him in the darkness of the backseat. He avoided his eyes, but nodded quickly to avoid you asking questions. It still made you raise your eyebrows though. You’d almost believe there was something they were both hiding, but if they _were_ keeping a secret from you, you really didn’t want to find that out.

You did have an idea what it was, but you’ll keep that question for later.

“Just so you know, I’m only agreeing because there’s no point in arguing with Douchebag number one, because unlike him, I’m a decent human being and would happily take Douchebag number two into my own bed like the good person I am.”

The car was silent for a short second before The Hulk spoke up - you’d honestly forgotten he was driving the car - his first words sounding as dull and lifeless as you thought they would. His teeth were cracked, you couldn’t help but notice. But you still let out a bark of laughter at the undertone he was offering, as Karkat melted further back into the seat than you would have ever thought possible, his face a deep red against the colour of his skin.

“You would rather sleep with him than argue for your privacy.”

Even Dirk cracked a tiny smile at that, his elbow digging right into Karkat’s ribs as the mood was hastily lifted from tense to slightly more tolerable. Which led you onto your next question, which may or may not let it drop again. You debated for less than a few seconds on whether it would be too invasive, but you figured you were all friends here, right? And besides, what harm could it do? You spun in your seat again, removing your glasses completely to see both Karkat and Dirk’s faces’ they already looked like they were caught in the headlights of your red eyes, and you slowly smiled at the prospect of their reaction being savoury and 100% worth your time.

“So,” You started, slightly catching Powerhouse-Paul’s attention as he pulled up into what you assumed was a carpark. You were here already? Better make this exchange quick, then! Like pulling off a particularly sticky and stubborn Band-Aid, you were going to just let-rip. “How long have you guys been fuckin’?”

Karkat’s jaw dropped first, his eyes almost tearing up with embarrassment. Dirk was calmer, obviously, but you could tell he was equally as embarrassed by the way his hands shrunk into loose fists and his mouth was pulled into a thin line. His ears would have been red too, but you can’t see much in the darkness of the car. You went to speak, but Karkat got there first, simultaneously shouting in both of your faces, his mouth acting like a reverse vacuum, spitting out the dirt rather than taking it in. 

“That’s...we aren’t...we’ve never –“ he cut himself off by hiding behind his PDA. It didn’t offer much, or any cover to his bright red face and growing embarrassment, but he tried, so you’ve got to give him kudos for it.

Dirk went to comfort him, his hand reaching out mid-air, but stalling when he clearly thought better of it. You gave him a once over, his eyes somehow making contact with yours through the gloom and tint of your shades. Oh, you knew what that meant, there would be some serious man-to-man talks going on later regarding this, but obviously right now, in front of the guy he was porkin’ and a stranger, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the visage that he was so unbreakably tough about his feelings like a Strider should be. You both were clearly not the definition of a Strider, you’re equally as emotional wrecks with more pent-up problems than you can count as the other is, but that’s not overly important and basically doesn’t matter anyway. Dirk was just better at hiding it. He instead got out of the car to retrieve the luggage from the trunk, ignoring all of you. Damn, if you knew there would be this much damage to his fragile ego you would have videoed it. And then felt kind of bad. But it would be worth it and hilarious.

“Man, what got up his ass?” You threw back to Karkat, watching Dirk walk around the car through the windows. “Oh, wait.”

“Fuck you, fuck him, and seriously fuck this entire trip. I’m going to get the room keys, and when you decide to join me I’ll already be pissing in your bed. Have fun, dickmunch.”

With that outburst out of his system, you were left alone in the car beside a sweaty asshole who more or less looked like he was going to shove you out of the car. You were scrambling for the door handle before that happened though, and without more than a hurried word of, “thanks” escaping your mouth did he reverse and pull away. You...really hope Dirk had taken all of the luggage.

 

When you’d gotten checked in, courtesy of Karkat, you’d swiftly avoided the few questions asked by the reception staff. “Are you Dave Strider?” “Don’t I know you?” You’re just thankful that you’ve never done a filmed interview. If a lot of people recognized you, you’d be in a lot more shit. Occasionally though, paparazzi do swamp you, but only if you’ve done something problematic or spontaneous recently. In fact, you’re fairly surprised no one has hounded you after your break-up with Jade; you know a lot of people liked her.

But it’ll happen. There have already been a few snaps of you online with references to your fashion sense, or yet _more_ jabs at your excessive wearing of shades, but most of them just pointed out that you looked ‘distraught’ about the break-up. Sure, let them think whatever they want. I was getting boring, reading the same stuff every day, so you just stopped paying full attention to the tabloids.

You were thrown into the elevator and swiped halfway up the building, Dirk standing in the corner of the elevator the whole time, not looking at either you or Karkat, and certainly not trying to make communication with _you_ at all. You were stood between them both, Karkat’s silent fury and Dirk’s silent...whatever it was he was feeling closing you into a stale, angry sandwich. The silence was kind of funny, but it wasn’t the time for laughter.

You kind of felt bad?

At last, the elevator bumped to a stop, spitting you out into an empty corridor. The carpet felt unusually soft beneath your shoes. It was kind of dim, so you removed your shades as you stepped out, taking your own bag in one hand and hooking the legs over your shirt collar. You looked back over your shoulder, seeing that Dirk’s shades were on, but he was still paying attention, and even took Karkat’s bag, much to your surprise. He didn’t, you noted, join Karkat at their own shared door. Instead, he followed you, passing over the luggage to his ... you guess boyfriend? Without a word mentioned.

The door closed, and you entered the room as far as you could go, turning at the last minute to see Dirk sitting comfortably on the edge of your bed. He hadn’t spoken, and neither had you, but there was an air of tension that you _could_ cut with a knife, but you had a feeling Dirk would completely obliterate the tension and slice it into pieces like a cucumber with his prized katana.

He cleared his throat, announcing that he was ready to talk.

Fuck.

“I’d like to start by complimenting the decor in here, _really_ well done -"

“Why...why would you bring that up. I didn’t even...how did you even know?”

You saw him shift on the edge of the bed, his hands gesticulating in his lap as he tried to comprehend this. You couldn’t understand...why it was a problem? Why would you care if your brother and your assistant were giving each other the business? 

You kind of wanted to open a window, it’s starting to feel suffocating.

The best course of action would be to sit opposite him and actually talk, but there were surprisingly no chairs here, so you opted for hopping up onto the desk and looking at him that way. He looked up at you, your added height feeling a lot more condescending than you’d have liked. You weren’t even the older twin, but you stayed where your ass was planted.

“Are you for real? You two obviously had something going on – don’t think I didn’t see the childish kicks under the table, and the giant swarm of hickies you just _conveniently_ had at the same time as Karkat. I didn’t even have to see them to know he had them. No one wears scarves in summer, Dirk - you must think I’m a serious idiot.”

He stayed quiet for a few more seconds, his eyes clearly seeking out yours from behind the dark tint of his shades. You knew he didn’t want to talk anymore, it was very much apparent from the way he blushed about the subject. Either that or he would explode from the abundance of feelings burning inside of him like a churning volcano of love.  
“ _Had_ being the key word...”

Had? You’re pretty sure you saw Karkat in the apartment last Saturday morning, he left his socks on the sofa. You washed them for him, how nice of you. (You kind of forgot to give them back though).

“It’s more of a fling, or I guess an occasional fuck if Karkat is down for it.” He paused, his head shaking slightly. You could hear the shrug in his voice. Was that...was he _upset_? “I didn’t think you’d notice...and honestly? Surprised you don’t care as much.”

Why would you care? It’s not your business...but you’d rather not know who your brother was getting cocktail-sticked _by_ , or who Karkat was sticking his cocktail sausage _into_. Those are gross thoughts that you’d bleach from your mind of it were possible. But...you’re kind of happy that dirk is finally talking to you about this? You’d waited for so long for him to say something, because you knew there was something he was hiding...you’d just wanted to know he trusted you enough to say. That’s also why you didn’t bring it up. Well, that and the before thing about not even _wanting _to know the gory details. It’s icky, why would you?__

__“Dude, I literally don’t care if you go back to Karkat now and get all lovey dovey with him, while I brood in here over my possible failure of a date tomorrow. Go get the Vantas-booty.”_ _

__Dirk seemed pleased with that conclusion, and made to leave. You just watched him go, and with a “great, good talk,” mumbled in passing, he was out the door and back into Karkat’s arms. Or, as you understood: sometimes he went into Karkat’s arms, and sometimes he didn’t. As long as they were content, who really gave enough of a shit to think about the inner workings?_ _

__You heaved a sigh big enough to wipe out Washington, and flopped face-first onto the crisp white sheets of your bed. It was going to be a long night, and you couldn’t wait to sleep it out like a big baby; you could feel a headache coming on, but you couldn’t be bothered to annoy Karkat for a painkiller, so you’d ride it out like a man._ _

__Also, what the fuck were you going to do about tomorrow? Karkat had a car coming for you to personally drive tomorrow, because your own car was back in Texas. The movie was at 6:00pm, so you’d most likely be picking John up a little before that. He also said that he absolutely _cannot_ miss the 6 showing, because his dad would completely freak out if he got back from work and realized his precious son had left without saying goodbye. Jesus, it’s not like you were taking him away forever. Just a few hours. At the most._ _

__You imagined his dad would be the kind to completely obliterate you with his gaze, his furious fatherly protection stunning you in your path and removing all chances you had with his son if you so much as blink at him wrong. Terrifying. You briefly imagine what it’s like to even have a dad._ _

__You roll over, kicking off your shoes with your feet and curling up on top of the duvet. It was way too comfy to climb under it, and you were way too happy lying there like the lazy mess you are. You figured you’d drop off to dreamland any time soon, so you checked up on your media in the meantime, awkwardly taking your phone from your jeans pocket._ _

__Nothing new...usual stuff. But, ah, just what you were expecting. Already there were several people questioning why you suddenly got onto a plane to Washington – how did they even find that out – many of them suggesting new movies, or some even bullshitting stories about long lost family you were visiting. Lame. Your eyes were closing, but the last story’s title caught your vision like a torch in the dark. “Dave Strider has a boyfriend?!” with the added commentary in the comment section of homophobic individuals and those who had no idea what was going on. It was very bland evidence they had, showing only John’s tweet (username blurred), and your reply. Also pair that with your apparent flight to Washington. Where John so cleverly mentioned in his bio. You knew that going through with this date tomorrow would confirm that yes, you did have a male companion in your sights...but you kind of...didn’t care. Let them say what they want, it wasn’t that you cared much, because you could easily wipe John out of any harm, Dirk’s a star when it came to that, but..._ _

__You...knew you’d forgotten something?_ _

__Or...you think you have. You don’t really remember telling the media about your sexuality._ _

__Dammit, you knew doing those interviews they offered would come in handy eventually. Welp, you can figure it out when the problem arises, for now, you need sleep, and it’s calling you like you assume mom’s do for dinner._ _

__

__

__You’d just gotten back from the store, your clever route out of the house undetected by your father, when you realised that...you’re going to have to mention this to him at some point. You mean, not the whole story, nobody but Rose knows about your...tendency to feel about men the way you would about women. But you should probably mention that you’re going out with a...friend tomorrow. He deserves to know, otherwise he would worry and send out a search party._ _

__Okay, he wouldn’t, he’d still pat your back with the fatherly pride that he usually does, and probably congratulate you on getting out of the house and finding a social life. But you still needed to tell him, just in case he thought you’d been kidnapped. Shit! What he wanted to meet Dave?? Wouldn’t he recognize him???_ _

__Does your dad even watch movies?_ _

__Welp, you’re in deep. It’s just as well that when you enter your house, pile of gummy apple candies in your arms, your dad is sitting leisurely on the couch, a pipe in his mouth. If there’s one thing you hate about your father ever, it’s his smoking. You don’t mind him doing it, but he does it in the house! Gross! People have to breathe._ _

__“Ah, John. I didn’t see you leave.”_ _

__“Oh, ha, yeah I just ran out for some candy...”_ _

__Your father chuckled, setting his pipe to the side while he took a long look at you. Oh good, he’s going to preach to you again. Better hastily get this out and abscond as fast as you possibly can._ _

__“Actually, um, I made a new friend...these are for him. I’m seeing a movie with him tomorrow, so...I’ll be out again in case you wonder where I’ve gone.”_ _

__A nod. “That’s good. I’m happy you’re making friends. Be safe, I don’t want harm to come to you...” You hoped he’d be relatively short with this part. “...I’d ask to meet the boy, but I don’t want to scare him away, heh. Just know, John, that I’m proud of you. Have fun at your movie.”_ _

__You feel like maybe there was an undertone of something else there, but you didn’t question any further and instead raced to your room. At least he didn’t want to meet him. Not that your dad was scary, but he can be...over-protective and big on first impressions. The first time he met your ex-girlfriend, he put whoopee-cushions on every seat she sat on in the house. That, and served her the only cake for dessert that somehow had the gumption to explode in her face. Although you really don’t think he liked her at all, and you can’t remember why you liked her either, she was a huge bitch. Too much for you to handle with both hands, ugh._ _

__When you got to your room, you slammed the door rather quickly, your back pressed against it and the bags of apple chews clutched against your chest. You got three packets, because they were on offer, and you would like to say they’re small but they really are not in any kind of way. You can’t quite remember why you bought them? But Karkat sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and boy did you trust him when it came to dating. Not that rom coms are a valid method of getting knowledge about the dating scene at all...but you think you can take his word for it on this one, he seemed like he knew what he meant when he talked about the stargazing and the candy._ _

__Oh good fucking Lord you forgot about the stargazing part. When would you do that? Certainly when it gets dark, but are you just supposed to mention it to Dave? Do you ask him if he wants to watch the stars? Or maybe you should just off-handedly mention that the stars are pretty, and maybe he’ll say something in return like, “Yeah, they sure are.” So you can use that as a gateway to ask him? Christ, this was hard. You’ll figure it out when it happens, right now you could really pass out. It was still relatively early, but you had a lot on your mind, and it couldn’t hurt to get some shut eye at a reasonable hour, despite your need to scroll through the internet. You haven’t checked it in a while. But you had your outfit picked out, and you were basically ready to do the date. You just had to wait for the time to roll around._ _

__So you peeled off your clothes and hopped under the covers, with the full intention to sleep until you were supposed to go._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wELL enjoy you lovable people that I love so much
> 
> i will take so long to write this next chapter and i am so sorry but i will write it eventually. the next one will maybe be a filler, maybe rosekan, so it might not take long? and then ill write the date. Oh yas.
> 
> heres my tumblr we can talk about ships and fanart and stuff >> doki-strider.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early rising for a couple of drama stricken dweebs.

Okay, so you couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t exactly news at all; going to bed when the sun had barely even dipped its rays beneath the horizon guaranteed you’d be waking up at four in the morning. Your normal sleep schedule was closer to nocturnal than you’d like to admit, so sleeping at normal-people time was a giant mistake on your part. That’s what you get for deciding straight out of school to become a movie reviewer with a blog; you almost never have a schedule and pretty much without a doubt only watch movies at the dead of night. God, you wish your dad was the type to force you into getting a _real_ job instead of blatantly supporting your every decision, you’re sure he’d congratulate you on deciding to wait until the morning to take a shit, instead of going now in case you wake him up. That was an example...you don’t really need to take a shit.

Now you just have to find something to occupy yourself with until you fall asleep again (if you do). Sigh.

You huddled in under your blankets, wrapping them around you like a burrito; with your free hand, you clicked on your phone, the bright screen blinding you in the darkness of your room. It took a while for your eyes to adjust, and for you to stop blinking madly and actually focus on the screen in front of your face – of which you could sort of make out? You really didn’t want to get your glasses, and lying down with them on was counter-productive, as they’d just get pushed right off of your face again.

...And unsurprisingly, no one was online. It’s 4am, only you would actually be awake like the moron you are.

You are _so bored_.

You didn’t want to get out of bed to get your laptop, so watching a movie was way out of the question, and there was nothing to do on your phone that would hold your attention for more than two seconds.

Fuck it. You’re just gonna snoop people on Facebook – you know Rose has a certain friend who needs snooped and approved. What was her name again? Kanye? Somehow you doubt her name was Kanye, so you went back into the pesterlogs to check. Rose dating Kanye West seemed interesting, you have to admit.

And...nope, no results. Dammit, why didn’t she have Facebook?

Of all the photos on Rose’s Facebook, you’d came across a great many of her with her mom – obviously they was the kind of photos that were supposed to be entertaining. You can’t be in a picture with Ms.Lalonde without the result being hilarious. You remember on Rose’s birthday, everyone had been invited to a dinner party at the Lalonde’s, even your dad. It had turned into more of a house party than a dinner party - It was...interesting, but the photos that had been taken were masterpieces on their own. At one point, both Rose’s sister and her mom were too drunk to even take part in them, so most of the time people would just pose with them while they slept on the floor/couch/any moderately flat surface. It was funny, sure, but Rose was a little more than pissed off – which was still hilarious. Your dad had played mother hen that night, looking after the two elder Lalonde’s while Rose sighed disapprovingly and you laughed your ass off about the entire ordeal.

You stopped on a picture of Rose and two other girls. One of them you knew, that was Vriska, a particularly awful ex that you’d rather not talk about ever again in your waking life. Also your only ex - your experiences with relationships is low, you hate to admit. The other girl...you’re not so sure. Maybe _that_ was Kanaya? She looked nice, and Rose had said as much. And they all looked like they were happy – Rose was smiling, and Kanaya had her arm snaked around her to rest on her shoulders, it was a friendly embrace, but from what you knew it must have meant so much more to Rose at the time. Vriska was on Kanaya’s side, and rather than pull her into a hug she was simply leaning on her shoulder with her elbow, all cockiness you remember ebbing out through this one photo. You can’t understand why Kanaya would even like her at all! Was Rose even sure of that, or was she just paranoid?

Ughhhh you really don’t want to get involved too much, because all of your opinions would be entirely biased due to the fact you really hate anything involving Vriska. Although you’re pretty sure Rose hates Vriska too, so you have a feeling she’ll do the right thing...maybe?

Whatever, all of this snooping has made you tired again.

You’ll check your emails and head on back to dreamland, you can’t afford being tired tomorrow, there’s too much at stake. (Even if your stomach is now tying itself in knots thinking about it, you still think you’ll be able to sleep at least a bit. Your eyes are kind of heavy.)

You scrolled through piles of garbage spam and promotional emails, before coming across a news thread. Normally you wouldn’t open those emails, it was always a bunch of boring shit that you had no interest in and could never find interest _for_ ; but something compelled you to open it. It was like some invisible four-am-force was guiding your thumb to the email, and you pushed it against the screen, pulling the article to your gaze instantly. It was probably the preview, honestly. It was Dave-related, but it wasn’t like you _cared_ if he was in the news, was it? You weren’t so obsessed as to stalk him - not that you were obsessed at all!

You’re insanely glad you opened the email. But you don’t believe you’re going to sleep anytime soon.

You bolted up in bed, knocking your glasses from the table beside you to the floor with a soft ‘thud’. You were too distracted to pick them up.

“Dave Strider has a boyfriend?”?!

Where the fuck has that come from? Your heart was ready to bust a hole in your chest, and you scrolled down through the page with sweaty thumbs, only scanning important parts before going back in your haste to read it more thoroughly. It wasn’t an overly long news article, but your throat tightened with every line you read. It seems you’ve already been called out, and Dave already slandered in the comments section. Your first problem with this: People would most likely spot you in the street and either a) congratulate you for scoring a choice babe like Dave Strider, or b) throw bricks at you for scoring a choice babe like Dave Strider. It was a bitter world that you were now unfortunately part of.

The second problem? Apparently no one knew for a second that Dave was interested in men. To you it was obvious, he’d had so many homo-tweets in the past that you specifically remember thinking were just for comedic effect...well, to Rose it was obvious, to you it was maybe not obvious at all? ...So your gaydar was probably broken. It was as bad as the media’s. You gotta hand it to them for not even sensing it a little, if you didn’t have Rose there to sniff out the queer undertones in Dave’s tweets you’d be completely lost in the dark. But even then it was just a guess, and it was more of a passing comment than a full-blown discussion about it. But you’re still incredibly surprised nobody had any idea!

And you were also incredibly surprised by how homophobic some people were. This is 2015! What ever happened to a new, better outlook on society? You’re scared to even leave your bed now, how can you go through with this date? People are going to beat the hell out of you! Oh God, it would be worse for Dave! He’s famous!

You take a deep breath, fanning your face with one hand to cool you down from what you think might be a small panic attack? You continue doing this until the tears in your eyes dry into nothing, and eventually you lie back down, your eyes closed and dreary.

Think, Egbert. This is a bad situation, you’ve never dealt with something like this before.

What are you supposed to do? Wear a disguise?

 

-

 

It’s in and around 6 in the morning. You’ve woken up at least five times since you’d fallen asleep, all to bullshit text messages and phone calls from your advisors and other people you could never remember the name or actual occupation of. All of them, you’d declined answering. It wasn’t until you started having the weirdest dream you could ever record that Karkat barged into your room (where the fuck did he get a key card??) and began thumping you across your ankles to wake you up from the deep slumber you were enjoying in the strangest way.

He started screaming before you could fully wake up, so you only caught half of his sentence in between yawns and slow blinking, but you seemed to get the message anyway.  
He stood with his hands on his hips at the end of your bed, his hands almost hidden beneath the jersey he was wearing. You refrain from pointing out that he didn’t ever go to Texas State University, and you only know of one other person who _has_ \- now wasn’t the time for pointing out that shit, though. Now was the time for going the fuck back to sleep, but apparently Karkat was not having it.

You vaguely make out the shape of Dirk hiding in the doorway, smirking at you for the unbearable thrashing you were about to get from your tiny assistant. If you weren’t too tired to move you’d kick his ass, but you just lazy raised a middle finger in his direction, which earned one back gratuitously.

“You wanna explain why I’ve been woken up fifty fucking times from your bullshit producers and media-monkeys?”

“Dude.” You said into the bleak atmosphere around you. You honestly felt like there was a vacuum in the air between you and Karkat, and that anything you said would just get sucked up and never heard from again. He didn’t look like he’d heard you, or ever wanted to hear you for that matter. “Why’d you not just put your phone on silent?”

“Well gee-fucking-whizz! Why did I not think of that, huh? I must be a fucking idiot to think that I could lose my job for doing that, what a world we live in where I can just come up with my own rules for a job I was hired to do! Wow!”

He was screeching dangerously loud now, and you felt your insides shrink considerably at the thought of staff telling you to shut the fuck up and get out of your lovely warm bed. If only Dirk could shut him up for you instead of silently wheezing the smallest giggles you’ve ever heard into the hands pressed against his mouth. Why do you have such useless people around you?

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve been hounded by shitty old men in gross tacky ties because nobody had any fucking clue that I was partial to sucking a dick or two. Also, that I now apparently have a definite boyfriend.” You crossed your legs, resting your chin in your hands. “Which for the record isn’t actually a thing, but by the end of this date I’m severely hoping because damn. My “boyfriend” is cute.”

From what you could see in the dark, Karkat’s eyes fell out of his head and rolled into the darkness.

“’Date’? You’re seriously planning on still going out there? You’re seriously screwed in the head, Dave, I can’t believe you’d think of meeting that buck-toothed asscrack of a dude and jeopardize your, and his, safety. Think of the consequences of this, or are you too filled with cotton and fluffy filling to think of anything other than your love-struck teenage heart’s needs? And it’s not only that, you have responsibilities you dumb fuck.”

You felt personally offended, clearly Karkat needed a lesson on the works of ‘YOLO’. Also, how dare he insult John? You’re sure John is a little better than an asscrack.  
“First of all, how dare you. Second,” You raised a finger in defiance. “Do you know me? A little bad publicity never hurt anyone. Also, John is probably awesome, so fuck you.”

“Please, I’ve met him, he’s – shit. I mean.”

You watched Karkat go from 100 to 1 in the space of a passing second, his mouth dropping open to reveal the entire inside of his mouth and his betrayer of a tongue. What did he mean he’s met him? He couldn’t possibly have...you glanced briefly at Dirk, who’d ventured further into the room with a look of equally matched concern that you had. Damn, just when you thought shit was going to go relatively smooth, Karkat had to go and say something questionable.

“When.” You tried, but stopped. You tried again. “What.”

Karkat visibly shuddered, his entire body quivering with repressed rage and confusion. You kind of wanted to hold him then, tell him to calm down and explain slowly – but that would be incredibly weird, and your affectionate tendencies somehow just wouldn’t apply here at all. So you let him struggle.

“Okay. So.”

You nodded, eyeing his fingers at the hems of the sleeve openings. He was cracking his knuckles nervously, something you could relate to.

“Let’s just say, hypothetically speaking, I...I know John? Before any of this shit happened. We’ve met in person maybe one fucking time, twice if you count that other time but I’d rather not – wipe that look off of your face, dunkass! Not _that_ kind of meeting. We’re just friends. Awful, toxic friends.” Karkat stormed off, leaving you to process with early morning thinking what he’d just said.

How the fuck did Karkat know John? You knew ‘It’s a small world’ applied sometimes but you didn’t think it was an actual fucking thing that happened to real people. Fuck.

Dirk looked at you pointedly, his eyebrows cascading down over his eyes like pinball levers, before shrugging his shoulders and slinking back into the depths of the dark hallway outside. Your door swung closed, leaving you lying in a haze of slight amusement and incredible amounts of confusion. You think it’s time you exercised your trademark, “if you forget about it, it’ll forget about you,” and roll back into a lulling sleep again.

That is exactly what you’ll do, it sounds desirable. And _fuck_ if you were going to cancel this date, you’ll talk to John about it tomorrow and sort out a thing; maybe you’ll wear shitty disguises. That could work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this took a month
> 
> but hey it's exactly a month today! and i decided "why dont i write this entire thing at 3am so i can post it and not feel guilty." so thats what i did and i still feel guilty that its not as great as i could have made it, but here you go this is the chapter. although there might be ONE more before the date happens, and it MIGHT take quite some time, so dont believe me if I say "oh ya ill write it soon lol" IM LYING IM A DIRTY LIAR
> 
> anyway enjoy lil peaches, heres my tumblr. im a lot more active over there: http://doki-strider.tumblr.com <33
> 
> and thank you so much for your feedback!! im glad people like it i cry ;u;


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